


It was never wrong for a man to love an angel (and that is what you are)

by scalira



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: 50s au, Homophobic Slurs, M/M, Mechanic!Raphael, Sexual Content, Shadowhunters Big Bang, ask to tag anything else!, time bound homophobia, waiter!simon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-21 14:28:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7390891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scalira/pseuds/scalira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raphael Santiago knows what happens to boys loving boys on the streets. He's witnessed it himself, saw the pavement color red with his blood. And though he walked away, his boy did not.<br/>He knows to be careful, to not draw attention. He thinks he's learned how to stay low profile - until he meets Simon.<br/>Because falling in love isn't a big deal. Unless it's 1953 and you fall in love with another boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It was never wrong for a man to love an angel (and that is what you are)

**Author's Note:**

> As mentioned in the tags, there's time bound homophobia in this fic, both from others as internalized. It's nothing too bad, but there are some encounters.
> 
> Other than that, I will be starting and ending scenes with explicit sexual content with a row of ***, so if you don't want to read such content you can skip right passed it.
> 
> This has to be my favorite thing I have ever written so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Comments are of course always more than welcome and would be greatly appreciated!
> 
> You will soon find the link to the art work accompanying this fic in the end notes!

**June 1 st **

Raphael Santiago is a God fearing, religious man. He prays by his bed every night, goes to church every Sunday. He believes in religious apparitions, angels and fate.

But when he meets Simon Lewis, he doesn’t know which of the three he is.

He wasn’t even supposed to be at the diner that day. He was supposed to be at the garage, working on broken cars for minimum wage and chewing down on the stale bread his boss considered an included meal. But he had been lucky enough today to find a five dollar bill on the street and decided to treat himself with a cheeseburger.

Raphael had only been to the diner a few times. He doesn’t exactly have the money to do so, and he gives the money he _does_ make to his mother so she can feed his three younger brothers. The few times he’d been there, there had always been two waitresses and one cook who he only saw occasionally through the small window leading to the kitchen.

But today there’s one waitress, and one waiter.

“Can I take your order?”

Raphael looks up from the menu he’d been holding and almost chokes on his words.

The boy in front of him can’t be older than he is. Eighteen, maybe nineteen. He’s wearing a white apron and a white-pink striped button up shirt underneath to match the walls of the diner. His glasses are thick and black, but he doesn’t look nerdy in them like the boys he’d seen coming out of the local high school.

“Hello?” The boy impatiently waves in front of Raphael’s face, holding a pen between his fingers. Raphael snaps out of it and glances at his name tag pinned to his chest.

 _Simon_.

 “Uh – a cheeseburger, pl – please,” Raphael stutters. Simon frowns at him before scrabbling it down in his notebook.

“Would that be all?”

Raphael nods and hands him the menu. Simon shoots him a professional smile before making his way to the kitchen window, yelling the order as he pins the paper on a line in front of it.

The diner is basically empty today besides Raphael and an old couple tucked in a corner. Most people are probably still working or at school, so Simon and the other waitress, a short redhead, mostly lean against the counter and talk.

Raphael catches himself glancing over at Simon as he waits for his order to arrive. He’s tall – taller than he is – and lanky. His smile is full of teeth and squinting eyes, not holding back when he full on laughs at something the redhead said. He’s attractive, that’s just an objective observation. Raphael can find other men attractive, right? Nothing wrong about that.

Simon walks up to him with his order and places the plate neatly in front of Raphael. Raphael gives him the five dollar bill despite the burger only costing two fifty and tells him to keep the change. Simon beams at him for that and turns around to walk back to the counter.

Raphael finishes his burger too fast, burning his tongue and having no drink to cool it down with. Then he stands, puts on his leather jacket and leaves.

Simon waves after him and wishes him a good day. Raphael mumbles something inaudible in reply.

 

**June 11 th **

Raphael mostly forgets about Simon. He occasionally thinks about his bright smile, but nothing more than that. He’d gone to the diner once more after meeting him, but the boy hadn’t been there and Raphael had told himself it wasn’t worth wasting his money on. So he stays away, and Simon is basically forgotten.

Until his voice rings in his ears as he’s working on a car.

“Uh, hello?”

Raphael startles and hits his head, grunting as he rolls from underneath the car to glare at the person calling for him. The glare quickly fades when he sees Simon though, and the boy smiles sheepishly down at him.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Raphael rubs his head where he hit it and gets up, wiping his greasy hands on a piece of cloth. Simon follows his movements closely, almost gaping at him.

“So… can I help you with something?” Raphael asks when he notices Simon won’t start speaking first.

“Wh – oh! Right, I – uh. My car broke down a few blocks away,” Simon points, thumb jerking over his shoulder. “I was wondering if you could – take a look at it?”

Raphael nods, motioning for Simon to lead the way. He turns his head to tell Carl – his boss – he’s going with a client. He just grumbles in return.

They walk the few blocks in silence, Simon walking slightly in front of him to lead the way. Raphael eyes him up and down, noticing the small spring in his step. As if he’s constantly happy to just be alive. He feels his lips tug up in a smile as he watches him, but quickly wipes it off his face when Simon turns around to him and gestures at a car on the curb.

Raphael nods and shoves his toolbox in Simon’s hands before lifting the hood to see what’s wrong. He examines the engine, but nothing seems to be wrong with it.

“I’ll have to take it back to the garage to do a full check-up,” he says as he closes the hood again. Simon hands him the toolbox and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Okay. I’ll help you push.”

Raphael puts his toolbox in Simon’s backseat and takes place behind the car, Simon following his example. They steady themselves and then start pushing, their backs pressed to the car and their feet digging in the asphalt.

Simon’s not as strong as Raphael is, grunting and struggling not to lose his balance.

“So,” he says through gritted teeth, “you’ve been a mechanic for a long time?”

Raphael glances at him from the corner of his eye.

“Two years.”

“How old are you then? I thought you were eighteen, but – ”

“I am. I started working at the garage when I was sixteen.”

“Oh. As a summer job or full-time?”

Raphael squints at him.

“Why do you care?”

Simon shrugs.

“I’ve just never seen you at school, that’s all.”

Raphael pushes some more before replying.

“No, I work full-time. Never finished high school.”

Simon nods, steadying his legs before pushing again.

“That’s cool.”

“Yeah,” Raphael replies, not knowing how to continue the conversation. Then he remembers Simon works at the diner. “You waiting tables as a summer job?”

“Uhu. Saving up to go to college. It’s not like it’s that expensive, but I wanna leave the state so I need some money.”

“What are you planning to major in?”

Simon huffs.

“Accounting,” he mumbles under his breath, still loud enough for Raphael to hear. The mechanic can’t help but chuckle at that.

“Interesting,” he says sarcastically. Simon sighs.

“I know. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t be going to college at all. But my mom wants me to find a decent profession to support a family and accounting seemed the safest thing to do.”

“What do you _really_ want to do?” Raphael wonders, looking at the boy next to him again. Simon meets his gaze and smiles shyly.

“I’m in a band. Nothing serious or professional, just for fun. I want to play music – make that my profession.”

“What do you play?”

“Guitar, mostly. I play a bit of piano as well, but not good enough to perform.”

Raphael’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “I play the piano too.”

“Really? Huh. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Why not?”

Simon breathes a laugh, gesturing to Raphael’s general direction. “You don’t really seem the type for it.”

Raphael laughs too, wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans before pressing them to the car again.

“My mother taught me and my younger brothers. She always says knowing how to play an instrument is a plus in life.”

“I wish my mother was like that. She thinks the band is a waste of time and I should focus on ‘real life’ instead. Do you – uh. Play publically? Like, on stage?”

Raphael shakes his head.

“No, I only play at home when I find the time. Why?”

He could swear Simon’s blushing now, but he blames it on the hot weather and waits for his reply.

“Thought I’d come and see you if you were.”

Raphael feel his own cheeks burn up. Damn that hot early June weather!

“Do you? Play publically?” He asks.

“Yeah! Mostly at the diner, though. Mr. Lightwood – that’s my boss – enjoys live music to lure customers. We’re actually playing this Saturday, if you want to come check us out?”

Raphael pretends to think, chewing his lip as if in deep thought. Then he cracks a smile.

“Sure, that sounds fun.”

Simon mimics his smile.

“Great!”

They’ve arrived at the garage now and Raphael stops pushing the car. He retrieves his toolbox and extends his arm to slap Simon on the shoulder.

“I’ll see what I can do. Drop by tomorrow in case your car is fixed by then.”

“Sure thing! See you tomorrow.”

Raphael nods, watching as Simon all but skips out of the garage. He shakes his head and laughs to himself, sinking to his knees to examine the car more closely.

 

**June 15 th **

The diner is packed on Saturday. There’re no boots available anymore, so Raphael takes place on one of the stools at the counter. His eyes dart through the room, trying to find Simon in the crowd.

He appears out of nowhere, tapping him on the shoulder with a huge grin on his face.

“Hey, mechanic!” He greets. He’s in his usual waiter uniform and is balancing a tray of food and drinks on one hand.

“Hey, I thought you were performing tonight.”

“Oh, I am! I’m just waiting for Izzy to take over my shift so I can get ready. Stick around, yeah?”

“Okay. Can you get me a Coca Cola in the meantime?”

Simon nods and then disappears again to get people their orders. He comes rushing back like a little tornado, zooming past Raphael on his stool into the kitchen and emerging from it seconds later with a glass bottle of Coca Cola. He plants it in front of Raphael’s face, brushing his hand against his shoulder as he pulls back. Then he’s gone again, not having said a word as he rushed by.

Raphael watches Simon dart by for twenty minutes before he disappears into the kitchen one last time and comes back wearing regular clothes. He hands his white apron to a dark-haired girl before making his way to the small stage set up against the far wall. A girl is already standing behind a microphone and is waiting for Simon to join her.

Simon sits down on a stool put there for him, pulls his guitar to his knee and starts playing.

Later, when asked what he thought of the song, Raphael would have to lie. The truth is, he honestly doesn’t pay that much attention to the girl singing or the lyrics of the song in general. His eyes are glued to Simon, his fingers plucking at the strings and his eyes closed in concentration, softly singing along to the song. His cheeks are red and Raphael wonders if it’s because he’s flustered or because it’s hot up there.

The song ends and the duo waits for the applause to die down before starting a more upbeat song, drawing people to the dancefloor in an instant. Simon smiles brightly when he looks up and sees people are dancing to his beat. His eyes dart over the crowd and eventually land on Raphael’s. Raphael feels his own cheeks flush when Simon’s smile turns into a grin.

They play a few more songs and when they introduce the last one, Simon stands and starts walking through the audience. They part for him, stepping aside so he can walk through the diner freely as the girl keeps singing and he keeps playing. He smiles at bystanders, effortlessly continuing to play without having to look at his hands. He even twirls a girl around when the singer does a solo.

Raphael is way at the back, on the stool closest to the door, and yet Simon finds his way to him anyway. He stands in front of Raphael for a few seconds, joining the girl in singing as if he’s serenading him. Raphael’s cheeks are almost unbearably hot now.

He even winks at Raphael before returning to the stage.

Raphael doesn’t even know how to react to that. Men don’t normally wink at him, unless they have a death wish (Raphael would never be the one to hurt them, but society usually would if they found out) but he finds himself liking it. Which is okay, right? Men can just jokingly wink at each other without meaning anything by it. It’s no big deal. Raphael is sure men do it to each other all the time.

But no matter how often he tells himself that, he still doesn’t have the balls to wait for Simon to finish his performance.

When the other boy finally puts away his guitar and welcomes the applause, Raphael has already left.

 

**June 17 th **

“You know it’s rude to leave without saying anything.”

“Damn it!” Raphael grunts as he hits his head on a car _again_. He rolls from underneath it to scowl at Simon, who is already apologizing.

“ _Dios_ , Simon. Stop doing that.”

Simon quirks an eyebrow at that.

“Dios? Didn’t know you were Spanish.”

“Well, you don’t exactly know a lot about me.”

Simon grins, one of those ridiculous, characteristic, toothy grins.

“I know you’re a mechanic. And you play the piano!”

Raphael huffs a laugh as he wipes his hands.

“Yeah? What’s my name?”

“Don’t you know your own name?”

“I do. But I don’t think _you_ do.”

Simon opens his mouth to reply, but almost immediately closes it again.

“Huh,” he breathes. “I guess I never really bothered to ask? I’m sorry, I’m not really socially capable.”

Raphael snickers, then raises an eyebrow.

“Well? Aren’t you gonna ask now?”

“Wh- oh! Yes. So, what’s your name?”

“It’s Raphael,” Raphael replies, reaching out to shake Simon’s hand. Simon is eager to grab it, doesn’t even seem fazed by how calloused it is. Raphael is pleasantly surprised to feel Simon’s hand is just as calloused.

“So, Raphael,” Simon continues once he let go off Raphael’s hand, “how’s my car coming along?”

Raphael makes a face at him, gesturing to the car he was just under.

“Not good, my friend. There’s a lot wrong with it.”

“Really? Damn. Will it cost a lot to get it fixed?”

Raphael shrugs.

“Dunno. Can’t tell yet.”

“Can you tell me how long you think it’ll take you to fix it?”

“Again, I can’t tell you. Days, weeks. It depends on how many customers we get. There’s only three of us here, you know, including my boss.”

Simon sighs, combing his fingers through his hair. Raphael notices how it sticks up where his hand went through it.

“Okay. Thanks anyway. Shall I come back tomorrow to see if there’s any progress?”

“As long as you don’t make me bump my head again,” Raphael says teasingly. Simon smiles sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I should really stop doing that before I give you a concussion or something. See you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here,” Raphael grins.

Simon glances at his lips for a split second before turning around to leave.

 

**June 21 st **

Simon doesn’t show the next day, nor the day after that. Raphael is starting to get worried, thinking maybe something happened to him and he wouldn’t find out until his parents came to retrieve his car. He remembers the way he had winked at him at the diner, for all those people to see, and what happens to boys loving boys on the streets. A sense of sheer panic spreads from his stomach to his chest over the course of the next few days and on Friday, five days after Simon had been at the garage, he goes to the diner with some change he’d stolen from the backseat of a car he was fixing and the plan to ask the redhead waitress where Simon is.

He doesn’t even get the chance to ask _anyone_ about _anything_ , because as soon as he enters the diner, there he is.

“Raph!” Simon greets, easily slipping into nicknames despite them not even knowing each other that well. He motions for him to come over to the counter, where the redhead and dark-haired waitresses are sharing a milkshake.

Raphael walks over to the trio and sits down on the stool next to Simon’s. The other boy turns until he’s facing Raphael, their knees almost touching.

“Hi there! Can I get you anything?”

“Uh – a chocolate milkshake?” He asks.

“Is that a question or order?” Simon asks teasingly. Raphael relaxes when he sees that bright smile, realizing there’s nothing wrong with him and nobody beat him up or called him disgusting names.

“That’s an order.”

“Coming right up!” Simon says. But before he can get up, the redhead places a hand on his shoulder and pushes him back into his seat.

“I got it, Simon,” she says kindly before making her way to the kitchen.

“So, how’s my car coming along?” Simon wonders once the redhead has disappeared.

“I thought you were gonna come and check for yourself.”

Simon chews his lip and looks away, almost guiltily.

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s just been really busy here and I barely had the time, and when I did, the garage was closed. I swear I’ll drop by tomorrow.”

“No need,” Raphael reassures him. “I’m still working on it. How about I just tell you when it’s fixed?”

“Yeah, maybe that’s for the best,” Simon agrees.

The redhead is already walking back towards them, a milkshake for Raphael and a Cola for Simon in her hands. Then she goes back to stand with the other girl, who’d been quietly listening to the two boys conversing.

Raphael ends up getting involved in a discussion about their Chemistry teacher despite the fact that he doesn’t even go to their high school. Simon tries to get him on his side of Anti Mr. Fell, whereas Isabelle and Clary (the dark-haired girl and the redhead, respectively) think he isn’t that bad.

“Yeah,” Simon says animatedly, “that’s because you’re a _girl_! If you were a guy, you’d see how horrible he is. He’s just nice to you because you have a cute smile you can flash at him and twirl your hair around your finger so he’ll solve the problem for you.”

“Hey,” Isabelle says, stabbing her straw into Simon’s direction, “that’s toxic gender biased thinking. Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I don’t have to do my best and I don’t just pass Chemistry because I happen to have breasts. I’m also just really good at chemistry.”

“That’s true,” Clary agrees, “nothing but straight A’s.”

“That’s about the only thing str – ” Simon starts, but he’s cut off by Clary, who jerks his hand from underneath his chin, causing him to hit his head against the counter.

“Hey!” He cries out, rubbing at the sore spot. Then he shakes his head and continues: “Anyway, back to the important matters. So, Raphael, you agree that Mr. Fell is the worst human being alive and should not be a teacher?”

“I – ” Raphael starts, but he’s suddenly distracted by the hand Simon puts on his shoulder and the impatient eyebrow he quirks at him. “Yeah, I agree with Simon,” he breathes. He tries to shrug off his hand as casually as possible, not wanting it gone but not wanting it there either.

“Boom!” Simon cheers as if Raphael’s opinion suddenly indeed made Mr. Fell the official worst person on earth.

“Wait, why does Raphael get to decide that?” Clary asks as if she just read his mind. “With his vote it’s still two against two!”

“Yes, but Raphael is a badass mechanic who could probably pick me up and snap me in half, so I now declare his vote as double counting.”

Raphael grins and looks down to his milkshake, stirring it with his straw.

“And he’s cute,” Isabelle adds.

“And he’s cute!” Simon agrees.

Raphael’s eyebrows almost disappear into his hairline when he looks up again. His hand has frozen over his drink.

“And I mean that in the most heterosexual way I can possibly can,” Simon adds quickly when he sees the expression on Raphael’s face. Clary is quick to jump to his rescue.

“Don’t mind Simon,” she says as she gives the boy a slap on the shoulder, “he doesn’t think before he speaks.”

“I don’t,” Simon nods apologetically. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Raphael says, his voice sounding wrong even to him. He digs into the pockets of his jeans until he finds some change, throws it on the counter and jumps off the stool.

“Hey, I gotta get going,” he says as he puts on his jacket. “I’ll drop by when your car is fixed, okay?”

Simon blinks, then nods.

“Yeah, okay. See you.”

Raphael waves the two girls goodbye and then beelines for the door, readjusting his collar once he steps outside.

Simon had just called him _cute_.

And he liked it.

Raphael knows what happens to boys loving boys on the streets. He’s sure to watch his back as he walks home, almost as if he thinks someone will look at him and know another boy had called him cute.

 

**June 21 st **

When he was eight, he told his mother he loved a boy.

She sank to her knees, pulled him closer and asked him why he thought that. Raphael shrugged and told her there was a boy in his class with skin as pale as the moon and eyes as blue as the sea. And when he looked at him, he felt happy.

His mother smiled, kissed him on his forehead.

“That’s not love, _mijo_ ,” she said. “That is friendship. Friends can make you feel like that too.”

And Raphael nodded, because she was probably right. But the blue-eyed boy remained in his thoughts, even after he moved away and left Raphael behind.

When he was ten, he told his mother he loved a boy.

She didn’t have to sink to her knees anymore, for he was almost as tall as she was now, and just knitted her eyebrows together in worry. Again, she asked him why he thought that. Raphael shrugged and told her there was a teacher, his math teacher. He was young and wore glasses and suits. Raphael told her he wanted to marry him.

His mother shook her head and cupped his cheek.

“That’s not love, _mijo._ You just think you want him because you can’t have him. It will pass.”

And it did, but not after Raphael wrote three love letters he hid underneath his mattress and never gave to the math teacher.

When he was thirteen, he told his mother he loved a boy.

She didn’t even let him explain this time, just firmly told him that was not possible and he should stop saying stuff like that. It was a sin to lie. She didn’t say it, but it was also a sin to love boys; he saw it in her dark eyes.

So he didn’t tell her about the boy in his class with the same dark hair and the same brown eyes and the same Mexican accent. He didn’t tell her about the notes they exchanged in class or how the boy would grab his hand underneath his desk or how his lips had tasted behind the bleachers.

Because he couldn’t love boys.

When he was fifteen, he didn’t tell his mother he loved a boy.

He didn’t tell her about the hands that slipped under his shirt or the tongue licking into his mouth. He didn’t tell her how it felt to feel him pressed up against him, so different than the body of a girl. So much _better_. And he didn’t tell her about how they got caught, how three boys pulled them apart and beat them up until they couldn’t stand. He didn’t tell her about how their blood mixed on the pavement or how his boy didn’t get up, _couldn’t_ get up.

He did tell her he got into a fight, but that the other guy got off way worse. She cleaned his wounds and punished him for fighting.

The next year, Raphael quit school and his family moved to a new neighborhood, where nobody knew him and who he loved and he could pretend that he never loved anyone he wasn’t supposed to.

Raphael didn’t love boys.

Raphael _doesn’t_ love boys.

**July 1 st **

There’s a plate with fries and a cheeseburger placed in front of him. Raphael looks up in confusion, frowning at Simon.

“On the house,” Simon replies. Then he sits across from him at the booth.

“Aren’t you gonna get in trouble for giving me free food?”

“Meh, I don’t really care. Besides, you look like you could use a good cheeseburger.”

Raphael hesitates, but then smiles and takes a bite.

“Thanks, Simon,” he says. Simon waves it off and watches as Raphael takes another bite. Then he starts off a monologue about all the things that come to mind – about a weird customer today, homework, annoying teachers. Raphael doesn’t mind. He actually enjoys listening to Simon’s voice, especially when he’s rambling.

It’s been three weeks since Simon brought his car in. The other boy stopped asking about it and just trusts Raphael to tell him when he can come pick it up, but he does complain about it.

“Do you know how inconvenient it is to not have a car?” He whines. He steals a fry off Raphael’s plate and balances it between his fingers like a cigarette.

“Poor you,” Raphael jokes, “do you want me to pick you up from work and drive you home?”

“Honestly, yes, that would be very much appreciated.”

Raphael rolls his eyes at him and throws a pickle into his general direction.

“Hey, I have to clean that!” Simon complains, picking up the pickle that landed on the floor.

Raphael offers him the most deadpan expression he can muster and throws another pickle on the ground. Simon narrows his eyes at him and gives him the finger, moving to grab his plate and return it to the kitchen. Raphael has fast reflexes though, and snatches the plate out of his reach.

“Tut tut,” he says, pointing a fork into his direction, “you gave that cheeseburger to me. There’s no going back now.”

“You know what? I’m starting to question this friendship.”

“What friendship? I just come here for the food,” Raphael says smugly.

“You’re a horrible human being.”

“The worst,” Raphael agrees as he throws a fry into the air and catches it in his mouth. He catches Simon looking at his lips when he tilts his head, but pretends he doesn’t notice. He’s pretty good at that, especially when it comes to Simon checking him out. Which is, flattering enough, quite a lot.

Simon looks at him for another heartbeat before shaking his head and continuing his rant.

“So, anyway. There was this man today, right? And he was wearing a green-and-pink-striped suit, which was _horrible_ , like a baby ate some weird candy and then threw up. So, he orders a vanilla milkshake and some apple pie and – ” But right when he’s finally getting to the point, Simon is interrupted by the loud noise of shattering glass.

Raphael spent his first years alive in a small village in Mexico where guns were sold out of the trunks of old cars and gangs had fall-outs on the streets, often killing more bystanders than gang members. So, when he registers the shattering glass and sees the window breaking, his first reaction is to think they’re being attacked.

He’s up on his feet in a second, covering Simon’s body with his own. The other boy clings to his arm in fear as smoke fills the diner. Raphael shields him from it, tugging him close to his chest and wrapping his arms tightly around him. He tries to see what’s going on, but the smoke is quickly spreading.

Clary comes running out of the kitchen with a broom in her hands, coughing and yelling swearwords a tiny girl like her shouldn’t even know. She uses it to get the smoke bomb somebody threw out of the diner and then spends another minute or so cursing whoever did it outside.

Once Raphael made sure there’s no threat and they’re not in danger, he pulls back and looks at Simon.

“You okay?” He asks. Simon nods as he stands, pushing past him to examine what the hell just happened. The smoke is already clearing, so they can see someone threw multiple bricks straight through the window.

“What the _fuck_ just happened?” Simon asks when Clary returns inside. She combs her fingers through her long hair when she sees all the damage.

“Damn it, how are we gonna explain this to Mr. Lightwood?” She huffs.

Raphael picks up one of the bricks lying on the floor and turns it in his hands. Then he holds it out for Clary to see.

“Tell him some homophobes did it,” he says, nodding to the word ‘fag’ written on the brick with sharpie.

Simon suddenly turns impossibly pale, swaying on his feet. Raphael grabs his arm out of reflex.

“Woah, is everything okay?”

“Ye – yeah,” Simon stutters. He swats away Raphael’s hand and leans against the counter instead.

“This is – this is all my fault,” he says slowly. He looks like he’s gonna faint or throw up or maybe both. His eyes flicker to Raphael for a moment before focusing on the floor again.

“There are – rumors. About me.”

“Simon, you don’t have to tell him,” Clary interrupts, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“It’s fine, Clary. Uh – people… _some_ people think I – like boys.”

Raphael’s heart stops beating in his chest.

“Do they bother you about it?” He asks. He suddenly feels the overwhelming urge to protect him, much like he did when the windows shattered.

“Sometimes. Nothing too bad, nothing I can’t handle. But they’ve never done _this_ before, that’s for sure.”

Raphael clenches and unclenches his fists. He wants to punch something, _hurt_ something for putting that expression on Simon’s face. And deep down his mother’s voice echoes through his head, telling him there are only a few sins that will get you to hell and that loving men is one of them, but right now he doesn’t care. Because Simon already is an angel, and even hell will bow for him.

He wants to reach out to him, tug him against his chest to keep him safe. But, though Simon is an angel and hell will bow for him, Raphael is just an ordinary man. And hell will swallow him whole.

So instead, he just touches his shoulder and jerks his head to the mess at the window.

“Come on, I’ll help you clean.”

The three of them clean the diner in silence, all too deep in thought to say much. Clary is probably still fuming and Simon still has that expression on his face. And Raphael just thinks about the people who did this, the people who thought it was okay to vandalize a diner because there were _rumors_.

And even if those rumors were true, would it really be so bad?

Not with Simon. Nothing about Simon could be bad, no matter how much he’s been told that it is. He looks at him and believes in God, in the beautiful creatures he created before the world corrupted them. He touches him and he believes in heaven, in eternal paradise with nothing but happiness.

But when he thinks about him, when he allows himself to, he remembers his blood coloring the streets. He remembers the funeral of his boy who didn’t get up.

So, to answer his own question: yes, it would be bad if those rumors were true. Not because Simon would go to hell when he died, but because life here would be worse.

Raphael sticks around after they cleaned and waits for Simon to finish his shift. When he finally does, Raphael holds up the keys to his car.

“Didn’t think I’d let you walk home alone after what happened today, right?” He asks.

And for the first time in hours, Simon smiles.

 

**July 14 th **

Raphael picks up another job.

He tells himself it’s because he wants to support his family, but the truth is he actually wants to make more money so he can spend it at the diner.

Of course it’s because he just likes the food there, not to see Simon. Not at all.

So he works at the garage during the week and at a local grocery store during the weekends. He barely has the time to sleep, let alone see Simon at the diner, so he’s really regretting taking another job now. Then again, maybe it’s for the best. Maybe he just needs to forget about him and move on, interest himself in other people, more _female_ people. Not that he likes Simon in that way, even if Simon would be… available. It’s not right, not for him. Simon is just fun to talk to, that’s all. A friend. And if he’s just a friend, why is he planning on not seeing him again anyway? You can hang out with friends. So, okay, this just leads him back to his former point of regretting taking the job because he won’t be able to see Simon at all now.

It’s been a week and a half since he’s last seen Simon and Raphael finally tells himself he has to stop lying to the boy about his car. Truth is, it’s been finished for a week. Raphael just didn’t want to tell him because he’s sure Simon won’t see any more reason to keep seeing him after his car is fixed. But he’s probably missing it and Raphael is just acting plain selfish by keeping it to himself. So he decides he’s going to the diner tomorrow to tell Simon his car is ready to be picked up and that will be it. Simon will probably drive out of his life forever and Raphael will probably never go to the diner again to avoid awkward meetings with him, because Simon won’t really have a reason to still be friendly with him now that his car is fixed.

But Simon reaches him first.

Raphael is sitting behind the register, skimming through a magazine and popping some bubblegum. His feet are propped up next to the register and the laces of his combat boots are untied, but his boss doesn’t bother saying anything about it. He’s probably just glad he found someone else to spend entire days behind the counter, hoping to get some customers.

Someone clears their throat in front of him and Raphael looks up to find Simon standing there, blushing. He immediately sits up straight and wants to say something, but then a can of beans is slammed on the counter to draw his attention.

Raphael follows the hand attached to the can to an arm and then shoulder and eventually an annoyed looking face. The face belongs to a woman around her forties, probably Simon’s mother.

“Uh, good afternoon, ma’am,” Raphael greets as friendly as he can. He waits for the woman to put her groceries on the counter and then quickly counts how much she owes him.

“That’ll be seven dollars, ma’am.”

He takes the dollar bills and puts them away, only then letting his gaze drift back to Simon.

“Hi,” the other boys says timidly.

“Simon, come on,” the woman says, jerking her head to the exit.

“I’ll be right there, mom. Just give me a second.”

The woman sighs but leaves him to it, leaving the two boys alone.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” Simon says once his mother is out the door.

“Yeah. The garage doesn’t pay as much as I hoped.”

Simon nods, looks around the store. He looks shy, which isn’t a look he’s seen on him before.

“I missed you – in the diner, I mean. You haven’t been dropping by.”

“I’ve been busy. I can come by tomorrow, if you want?”

Simon’s cheeks turn impossibly red. Raphael notices little patterns in them. Some spots are paler than others.

“I’m not on shift tomorrow. But uh – you can… come to my house? We could hang out. I mean, if you – if you want to, that is?” He stutters. Raphael suddenly feels all fuzzy and warm inside – an unfamiliar but pleasant feeling. He doesn’t want it to ever go away.

“Okay,” Raphael simply says. His voice sounds calmer than he’s feeling.

“Yeah? Awesome! Uh – ” Simon grabs a pen from the counter, reaches for Raphael’s hand and scrabbles down his address on the back of it.

“Come around ‘round noon?”

“I’ll be there.”

Simon flashes him a smile before dashing out of the store.

Raphael’s hand feels funny for the rest of the day, too warm and too prickly where Simon’s skin had touched his.

 

**July 15 th **

Simon’s house looks like any suburban house does. There’s a wide, empty parking space, a closed garage and a big, white front door. Raphael feels out of place and uncomfortable here, suddenly longing for the small two-bedroom apartment he shares with his mother and brothers. It somehow feels… unreal here. Too far from the real world, tucked in a small bubble of wealth where sickness and hunger can’t touch them. Simon doesn’t have to take two jobs to provide for his family. He wouldn’t even have to take one job if he didn’t want to go to college.

Raphael pushes the sudden bitterness aside and rings the doorbell.

He’s preparing to face the bitter woman he briefly met in the grocery store yesterday and is already mentally preparing his best Good Boy Smile, but Simon is the one to open the door.

“ _Hola, amigo!_ ” He greets. Raphael glares at him.

“Don’t ever say that again,” he says as he steps inside.

“Why not? It’s the accent, isn’t it?” Simon closes the door and shrugs. “Never got Spanish at school. I always thought that was a shame, but my mother thinks it’s for the best. She doesn’t think we should ‘learn the language of the immigrants’ and- oh god I totally just outed my mom for the racist she is in the very first second you’re here.”

Raphael chuckles.

“It’s fine. Besides, maybe it is indeed a good thing you can’t understand Spanish.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“So I can talk shit about you without you even knowing,” Raphael winks. Simon shoves him into the direction of the stairs.

“You’re an ass,” he says. Raphael laughs as he follows Simon upstairs. The other boy leads him to his room and stands in the doorway a bit awkwardly as Raphael enters.

“So – yeah. This is my room. We can listen to some music, if you want. Or we can – ” But he falters as he watches Raphael approach the electric piano in the corner.

“Hey, we could jam!” Simon proposes.

“What?” Raphael asks, looking over his shoulder to look at him.

“You know. You on the piano and me on my guitar. Just start a tune and I’ll join!”

“I – I don’t play for other people.”

“Oh come on, Raph, don’t be so boring! Besides, it’s just me! I’m basically nobody.”

“That’s not true,” Raphael replies too fast. Simon offers him a surprised look. Raphael wants to say Simon liking his way of playing the piano means more to him than he wants to admit, that he doesn’t care about others as long as Simon likes it, that he’s not nobody in his eyes. But instead he just wordlessly takes place behind the piano and starts playing a simple tune.

Simon joins after listening for a while. Raphael never thought the guitar and piano would mix well, and yet what they produce doesn’t even sound half bad. It takes them a few tries to get used to each other’s playing, but after that they actually sound… pretty good. And Raphael enjoys it.

He lets his hands fly over the keys like he does at home, forgetting where he is and who’s listening. There’s only the piano and the guitar, the blending of two sounds, two instruments. And then Simon is standing next to him, a happy smile on his face as he watches Raphael’s fingers and tries to keep up.

The song ends and Raphael is eager to continue, but he allows himself to sit back and loosen his shoulders first. Simon takes the opportunity to slap him on the shoulder.

“That was amazing!” He cheers enthusiastically. “ _You_ ’ _re_ amazing. I can’t believe you don’t perform, you’d kill it!”

Raphael ducks his head, tries to hide the blush on his cheeks.

“I don’t like crowds,” he explains.

“You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

Raphael frowns up at him. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know what to think of you. I mean – you’re this badass, strong mechanic but then you also play the piano and are uncomfortable with crowds. And you blush, like – a lot.”

“I don’t blush,” Raphael immediately replies.

“Oh, but you do,” Simon grins, “it’s okay. I just have that effect on people.”

Raphael doesn’t know what to say so he just stares at the keys. He’s trying his best not to blush, to think about anything else than what Simon just said. The other boy nudges him in the ribs.

“I’m just teasing, Raph. Now, scoot over.” He puts away his guitar and sits next to Raphael on the bench, their thighs touching.

“Ever played with someone else before?”

Raphael looks at Simon, who’s sitting so close now. He notices the light freckles on his nose and cheekbones, the barely visible stubble. Raphael wants to reach out his hand to touch it, feel the roughness of it. But he wills the urge away, pretends like it never even existed in the first place.

“No,” he says hastily when he realizes he’s been quiet for too long.

“Okay, it’s not that hard. You just have to listen closely and pick in whenever you can. Ready?”

Raphael jerks his head in an attempt to nod and watches Simon’s long fingers intently as they start playing. Raphael knows this song and how to play it, so it’s not hard for him to pick in. Simon giggles when Raphael manages to keep up with him.

By the time the song ends, their hands are lying right next to each other on the keys.

They’re both quiet for a heartbeat, just sitting there. Raphael is painfully aware of how hot Simon feels next to him, his body radiating heat that seeps through his shirt and lights his skin on fire. And then Simon turns his head and Raphael turns his head and for one terrifying, scary moment, Raphael thinks Simon might kiss him.

And for one terrifying, scary moment, Raphael thinks he might kiss him back.

But then he’s on his feet, almost knocking over Simon’s guitar on his way to the door.

“Hey, everything okay?” Simon asks worriedly as he stands too.

“Ye -yeah, I’m fine. I just – I need to go. Right now. Your – uh – your car is fixed, by the way. You can come get it tomorrow, if you want.”

“O- okay. Do you really already have to leave? You just got here.”

“Yes, sorry. Thanks for having me over. Okay. Bye.”

Raphael hurries downstairs and then out the door, almost running.

On the way home, he prays to the Lord to forgive him for his sins.

 

  **July 16 th **

“Okay, how much do I owe you?”

Raphael rubs the back of his neck and avoids Simon’s gaze as he glances at his car.

“Nothing,” he says.

“What? What do you mean, nothing?”

Raphael shrugs.

“Consider it a favor.”

“Are you kidding me? Wasn’t there, like, _a lot_ wrong with it?”

“Yeah, but – it’s no big deal. Don’t worry about it.”

Simon stares at him and digs up his wallet anyway, trying to hand Raphael seventy dollars.

“No, Simon, I’m serious.”

“But why?”

Raphael feels his cheeks flush once again and turns away from the other boy to hide it, pretending to clean a spot on a car.

“It just doesn’t feel right charging you for it.”

“I’m gonna give you the money anyway, whether you like it or not.”

“Well, I’m not gonna accept it.”

Simon walks around him so they can face each other and then stuffs some money in Raphael’s hands. Raphael immediately gives it back, causing Simon to try to give it to him again. They end up in some kind of weird stand-off until they somehow end up almost chest to chest, Raphael’s hand wrapped around Simon’s wrist to keep the money away from him.

“Simon,” Raphael eventually says, “your car was ready a week ago.”

“Huh? Why did you only tell me it was ready now?”

“Because,” Raphael exhales deeply, “because I wanted to have an excuse to talk to you.”

Simon’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he takes a step back, the money suddenly forgotten.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. I thought – I don’t know, I thought you wouldn’t talk to me anymore after I fixed your car.”

“Why not? We’re friends, right?”

Raphael smiles gratefully.

“Right. And friends don’t charge friends for fixing their car.”

Simon rolls his eyes at him, but eventually puts away the money.

“Okay, so. How about, instead of paying you, I take you for a ride instead? You know, to check if you actually fixed it. Maybe we could… go to the drive-through movie? I’ll spend the money I was supposed to give you on unhealthy snacks and soda.”

Raphael thinks about it for a second. They’d have complete privacy in the car, nobody would see them together on some kind of _date_. And even if they did, they could just be chilling together.

And the prospect of being stuck in a car with Simon for at least two hours doesn’t sound bad to Raphael at all, if he’s being totally honest.

“Yeah, uh. When?”

“Right now? It starts in about an hour, so if we leave now we’ll get a good spot.”

Raphael looks at Simon, at his hopeful smile and his big, brown eyes behind his glasses. He feels his heart flutter when he thinks about the fact that _he_ put that smile there.

“Okay, let me get changed and we’re off.”

“Awesome,” Simon grins. Raphael has to put all his strength in turning around to the locker room instead of staring at that grin forever. He takes a quick shower, washing away the grease and sweat from spending the entire day in the dusty garage, and changes into his ordinary clothes and his good old leather jacket. He doesn’t bother with his hair – he didn’t bring his hair gel anyway.

When he returns to the garage, Simon is leaning against the hood of his car and kicking at some dirt. He has a tool in his hands to play with, but when he sees Raphael, he almost drops it.

“Yo- your hair,” he stutters.

“It’s on my head,” Raphael agrees.

“No, I mean… It’s curly.”

“I’m aware, Simon. Thank you.”

Raphael walks past him to get into the passenger seat and waits for Simon to get behind the wheel. The other boy still seems thrown out of the loop by Raphael’s hair as he puts the keys into the ignition.

“Why don’t you wear your hair like that more often?” He asks as he pulls out of the garage.

“I don’t know, never really considered it.”

“You should. I like it that way.”

Raphael opens his mouth to say something, but the words die on his lips. Instead, he just looks out of the window and watches the scenery move by.

Simon drums on the steering wheel as he drives, silently humming a tune to chase away the silence. Raphael searches for things to say, but he never was much of a talker. He can’t shake the feeling that he’s boring Simon, that he just asked him to join because it was a nice thing to do. He frantically searches for something to say and finally settles with: “Why don’t you stay here to play music?”

“What?”

“Why are you going away to study accounting other than the fact that your mother wants you to?”

“That’s actually pretty much the only reason,” he admits.

“Don’t you think you’ll be unhappy?”

Simon huffs, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. Raphael notices, but keeps his eyes on the road.

“I guess I never really thought about my own happiness. Accounting is just safe, ya know? Nothing can go wrong with it.”

“Isn’t it part of the fun that things can go wrong?” Raphael asks. Simon laughs.

“I bet you were one of those boys who smoked behind the bleachers and talked back to teachers when you were in school.”

“I did other things behind the bleachers,” Raphael says before he can stop himself. Then he kinda wishes he could just die right now because _why did he just say that_.

Simon’s cheeks are bright red and he can tell Simon wants to take it even further and ask what exactly he did, but he swallows the words.

“What about you? You gonna stay a mechanic for the rest of your life?” He asks instead.

“Probably.”

“What? No big dreams? No future plans? Come on, man. If you wanna be friends, you gotta talk to me.”

Raphael sighs deeply.

“I want to travel,” he finally admits.

“Oh? Travel where?”

“Everywhere. Mexico, to begin with. And then up, through the states. Across the ocean to Europe. But you need money for that, which I don’t really have a lot of.”

“Tell you what,” Simon says as he pulls into the parking lot the movie is playing in. He pays for two tickets and drives close to the screen. “I won’t go to college if you go travelling. In fact, let’s do it together.”

“Travel together?”

“Yeah, why not? Could be fun. I think you could be fun if you stop being so cryptic all the time.”

“I’m not cryptic.”

“It took me a week to find out your name.”

“That’s because you never asked!” Raphael defends himself. Simon giggles at his reaction.

“Okay, okay! I’ll give you that one. But honestly, what do I know about you other than your name, occupation and that you play the piano?”

“Those are the only interesting parts about me.”

Simon nudges him in the ribs with his elbow.

“Don’t lie. I bet you’re pretty interesting.”

“Well, you just suggested travelling with me without really knowing me. Maybe I’m a murderer – that could be interesting.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Raphael snickers and watches as Simon parks. Then he places the speakers in the car and gets out to buy some snacks.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Simon asks as he follows him out of the car.

“I’m – gonna buy some food?” Raphael suggests.

“No, _I’m_ gonna buy some food. Do you like salt on your popcorn?”

“Do I like being _alive_?”

“Fair enough.”

Simon and Raphael walk to the stand and Simon buys them a large popcorn, handing it to Raphael so he can also buy two large cups of soda. Then they walk back to the car and get ready for the movie, sitting back in their seats until they can see the screen comfortably.

They talk until the screen lights up, about the most trivial things. Simon tells him about his big sister who’s off to college and Raphael tells him about his three little brothers. Simon asks if it’s hard living with that many little siblings, but Raphael shrugs and says he loves them and would do anything for them. He tells Simon about the little time he’s spent in Mexico and why he left in the first place. About his father, whom he hates, and his mother, whom he loves. Simon’s father died when he was young and his mother raised him and his sister alone, so he really doesn’t have a bad word to say about her.

Then Raphael makes the mistake to ask about the movie they’re about to watch.

Raphael tries not to stare as Simon rambles about everything about the movie except the plot. About the director, the cast, stories from the production and the special angles they shot it in. He tries not to look at his flapping, excited hands and his long fingers. He tries not to see how the dim moonlight reflects in his big eyes or makes his skin look paler than it is. And he tries not to glance at his mouth as he talks excitedly, occasionally darting his tongue out to lick his lips.

Raphael realizes with a shock that Simon is _pretty_.

He’s never found men pretty before. He’s found them handsome and hot and attractive, but never _pretty_. But everything about Simon is exactly that. His lips, his eyes, his nose, his curls. And it doesn’t even seem _weird_ to Raphael. Seeing Simon as pretty comes just as easily as seeing him as male. It’s just part of who he is.

Raphael would’ve been stealing glances at him the entire night if he hadn’t dropped the actual title of the movie.

“Wait, we’re watching Nosferatu?” Raphael asks.

“Yeah, what’s the matter? Don’t like horror?” Simon teases.

“No, I’m fine with horror. I’m just not a fan of vampires.”

“Aw, I’ll hold your hand if it gets too scary.”

Raphael glares at him and punches him on the arm. Simon just laughs, but then his expression turns serious again.

“Hey, Raph?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for – not being weird about it. About, like – the rumors.”

“They’re just rumors,” Raphael shrugs, “I’m not gonna be weird about _stories_.”

“Yeah, but what if – hypothetically speaking – those rumors were… True? Would you still… would you still be my friend?”

Raphael looks at him, _really_ looks at him instead of just appreciating his features. His eyes are sad behind his glasses, almost desperate. He’s pouting a little and Raphael wants to suck that pout into his mouth and kiss the sadness away and he _hates_ himself for that thought.

But he doesn’t hate Simon. He could never hate Simon.

“If – hypothetically speaking – those rumors were true, I wouldn’t care.”

“Really?”

“Really. You’re a good man, Simon. Who am I to judge you?”

Simon smiles gratefully at him. He immediately looks happier, as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

Raphael wants to say something else, about how Simon makes him feel or how he was raised to believe this – _them_ – was wrong or how he thinks he’s _pretty_ , but it’s all lost in the space between their bodies, disappears on his breath like ice melted by the sun.

So, instead, they just watch the movie. And if their hands brush against each other when they both reach for the popcorn, Raphael is not gonna be the one to pull back first.

 

**August 1 st **

“Go out with me.”

It’s whispered over two strawberry milkshakes, Simon leaning over the counter to close the space between them.

Raphael’s eyes widen and he almost chokes on his drink.

“Wh- what?” He stutters smartly.

Simon smirks and leans back, looking way too confident for just having asked out another guy. But, as Raphael has noticed lately, Simon has gained a lot of confidence since that night at the movies where he basically told Raphael he was queer. Raphael guesses it’s because he didn’t freak out on him or cut him off after it – in fact, they’d been seeing each other almost every day since then. They mostly hang out in the diner when Simon is on shift, but sometimes Simon will come to the garage too and sit somewhere as he watches Raphael work.

Fall is steadily approaching and Raphael tries not to think too much about what will happen then. Simon will be off to college where he can’t come to visit him and he’ll stay here, forever stuck in a dusty garage.

But for now, it’s summer. And they have too little time left to not enjoy every last second of it.

“Go out with me,” Simon repeats, louder now. There’s nobody in the diner this late at night – even Clary has already gone home. Simon was just closing up when Raphael came in, craving a strawberry milkshake. “We could just go to the fair. You know, go on the Ferris Wheel, win some stuffed animals, eat cotton candy. It could be fun.”

“O- okay,” he nods, his cheeks _blazing_. Simon notices the blush and smirks even wider.

“Pick you up tomorrow at 8?”

“Okay,” Raphael says again. Simon rolls his eyes at his lack of comments.

“Now, shoo! Get out of my diner. I need to close up.”

“It’s not exactly _your_ diner.”

“It is after closing hours. And I can choose who gets to be here and who doesn’t, so _you_ ,” he points his finger in Raphael’s face, almost touching his nose, “leave! I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Alright, alright! I’m going. Jeez, at least Clary lets me sit here to finish my drink when she’s closing.”

“Well, as you’ve probably noticed by my wildly attractive features and strong, male body, I’m not Clary.”

Raphael wants to agree but that’s a step too far for him, even after all the weeks he spent getting comfortable around Simon. Instead, he gets up, takes one last, slow sip of his milkshake to annoy Simon and then leaves, flinging his jacket over his shoulder as he goes.

 

  **August 2 nd **

Raphael’s never been to the fair before. When Simon hears that, his jaw almost drops to the floor.

“What do you _mean_ , you’ve never been to the fair?”

“ _Dios_ , Simon, I don’t know. I think that means I’ve never been to the fair before.”

“But _how_?”

Raphael shrugs.

“Nobody ever asked me.”

“That is truly sad, my friend. Let me show you a new world.”

Simon drags Raphael from stand to stand, shooting ducks and hitting moles and all that other stuff Raphael’s only heard of. He even buys him a cotton candy bigger than his own head.

“This is disgusting,” Raphael says after he took a bite.

“Wh- I can’t believe this is the end of our friendship. Cotton candy is like heaven on earth.”

“Lying is a sin.”

“So is liking men, yet here I am.”

It’s the first time Simon has actually said he’s gay with so many words. Sure, he’s made implications, but never so explicitly, not even when he came out to him. It makes Raphael stop dead in his tracks out of shock.

“Oh shit. Sorry, that just slipped. I totally made things awkward now, right? Like, I guess it’s one thing _thinking_ one of your friends is living in sin, but another to actually hear it out of his mouth. I’d understand if you want to leave now because I made you uncomfortable. It’s just that – around my other friends, I don’t have to watch what I’m saying. I’m out to them, you know? And it’s just that you make me feel so at ease I just forget I don’t even know if you’re okay with all of this and – ”

“Simon!” Raphael interrupts. “You asked me out and I said yes. It doesn’t bother me, okay?”

“I wanted to ask you about that, actually. You saying yes… was that being nice or because you – you know – like me? In that way?”

Raphael bites his bottom lip, takes a moment before replying.

“I don’t know,” he says honestly, “it’s… complicated.”

Simon nods.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I get it. So, uh. Wanna go on the Ferris Wheel?”

Raphael smiles, grateful for Simon trying to get past this awkward conversation.

“Of course,” he says.

 

“You totally grabbed my hand!” Raphael points hours later.

“Look,” Simon says, holding his hands up as if he’s being held under gunpoint, “it was a fast ride and I was scared, okay? It was a natural reaction. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Sure,” Raphael grins. He digs up his cigarettes and lights one as they walk over the dark beach, the fair lighting up the night sky behind them.

“Oh, can I have one too?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re mine and I don’t share.”

“First you don’t like cotton candy, then you don’t share…” Simon shakes his head. “You’re seriously losing hotness points.”

Raphael quirks an eyebrow as he takes a drag.

“You think I’m hot?”

“Oh, come on. As if you don’t know you are. With your leather jacket and slicked back hair and dirty shirts.”

“Hey, this is a clean shirt.”

“Well, thanks for dressing up for me.”

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Pain in the ass and proud. Now, can I at least take a drag?”

“Go take a walk, Lewis!”

Simon narrows his eyes and lunges forward in an attempt to snatch the cigarette out of Raphael’s hand. Raphael keeps it out of his reach and holds him back by placing a hand on his chest.

“Where are your manners?” He wonders with a raised eyebrow.

“Left them at the fair,” Simon replies, standing on his toes to reach the cigarette. Raphael keeps him at arm-length as he takes another drag and blows the smoke in Simon’s face.

Simon gets even closer now. Raphael is struggling to keep his hands away from the cigarette and somehow ends up with both Simon’s wrists in his one hand, pressed against his chest to hold them close. He turns his head to take another drag but when he turns his head again, Simon’s face is way closer than he expected.

Instead of stepping back, he just blows the smoke into Simon’s mouth, their lips inches apart now.

Simon inhales and lets the smoke escape through his nostrils. Raphael can feel Simon’s hands relax in his grip.

“Do that again,” he whispers, so Raphael does.

Their lips are _so_ close now, Raphael can feel Simon’s breath on his skin and the heat of his mouth against his. And as he gently blows the smoke into Simon’s mouth, Simon closes the distance between them completely.

At first he doesn’t even realize they’re kissing. But then Simon’s hands grip into his shirt and he makes a sound in the back of his throat as he pulls Raphael closer and Raphael drops the cigarette in the sand to grip into Simon’s hair instead, tugging until he tilts his head. Raphael stands on his toes to kiss him more deeply, wrapping his arms around his neck and cupping the back of his head with his hand. But then Simon whispers Raphael’s name against his lips and Raphael returns to his body and realizes what he’s doing and who he’s kissing and –

He is eleven and he fantasizes about a prince coming to rescue him from his tower on the 12th floor.

He is thirteen and he wakes in sticky sheets, the name of a boy lingering on his lips and sweat on his brow.

He is fifteen and there is _blood_ , his and from his boy and he got up but his boy didn’t and the face of the boy lying on the ground shifts and changes until it’s Simon’s, bloodied and lifeless and cold, and –

Raphael pulls back with a gasp and doubles over, throws up as hot tears sting his eyes. Simon jumps back with a shriek.

“Jesus, Raph!” He says, panic tugging at his voice. He flaps his hands around for a moment before settling them on his back, rubbing it as he coos soothing words.

“I’m gonna blame that on all the junk food you consumed and the wild rides we were on and not my kissing skills,” he says after Raphael spit on the ground one last time and wiped his mouth.

“Can you – can you just take me home?” Raphael asks weakly. Simon nods and guides him to his car.

They don’t say anything as Simon drives him home, and when Simon asks if he can see him tomorrow when he gets out, Raphael pretends he didn’t hear him.

 

  **August 4 th **

Raphael just wants to avoid Simon for the rest of his life and anything after that, but he knows that’ll hurt his feelings and that’s about the last thing he wants to do to him.

He manages to not see him for one day before he gets paranoid and thinks Simon is gonna be angry or sad or upset or all three together and he decides to drop by the diner, just to see how he’s doing.

It’s kinda become their thing where they would hang out at the diner even if Simon isn’t on shift, just because it’s a much nicer place to be than at the garage. So, even though Simon isn’t working today, he’s still sitting at a booth with a milkshake in front of his face, chatting with Clary at the counter.

Raphael greets the redhead with a nod of his head before he heads to Simon, who is wearing – to his absolute _horror –_ his jacket.

He immediately forgets all his intentions to pretend like they hadn’t kissed and he hadn’t thrown up right after and snatches Simon right out of the booth by his arm.

“Hey!” The other boy says, sounding displeased. “That’s not how we usually say hi!”

“Why are you wearing my jacket?” Raphael hisses. Simon seems taken aback by his tone, but shrugs casually nonetheless.

“You left it in my car and I thought I may look good in it. I do, by the way. Thanks for the compliment.”

“But it’s _my_ jacket.”

“If this is about the ‘I don’t share’ thing, you seriously need to chill. I’ll give it back, no need to act like this.”

“No, Simon. It’s my jacket and people _know_ it’s mine! So, if they see you walking in it, don’t you think they’ll make some kind of connection?”

“Oh,” Simon says, his cheeks turning pink. “Sorry, I didn’t think – I wasn’t -”

“That’s right, you weren’t thinking. Now, take it off and give it back!”

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry! I’m sure nobody actually th – ”

But Raphael has already snatched the jacket out of his hands and is walking back to the door.

“Raphael-”

“Leave me alone!” He yells.

And Simon does.

For a while.

 

  **August 7 th **

Raphael never had trouble talking to his mother about stuff. She was always there for him, made sure he didn’t miss a father figure in his life to go to with his problems. She’d always been his mother _and_ his father, and he admired her greatly for that.

But this problem is one he can’t discuss with her – or anyone, for that matter. He can’t possibly admit to her that he is falling for a boy again, even after all her warnings to not do such a thing. And how can he even begin to confess it to her when he can barely confess it to himself?

Every time he thinks about it, every time he remembers Simon’s lips against his and how Simon had looked in his jacket, Raphael feels sick to his stomach. It isn’t just butterflies; there’s fear and anger and confusion too, all balled up to be a giant monster, consuming him from the inside.

He doesn’t come out of his room for three days. The garage calls multiple times and his mother always has to pick up the phone to tell them Raphael has come down with the flu, and each time she bangs on his door afterwards and tells him she just sinned for him by lying to his boss and he better have a good explanation for his behavior.

He does.

But she cannot find out.

On the fourth day, when he’s weak from not having eaten anything the last couple of days, he finally comes out of his room.

His mother immediately wants to sit him down at the kitchen table and cook him a meal, but he steps out of her grabby hands and heads straight for the door.

“ _Mijo_ ,” she calls out. Raphael turns around to face her.

“I’m going to church,” he explains, and then he’s gone.

 

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned. It’s been six weeks since my last confession.”

His voice barely reaches the priest sitting on the other side of the confessional. He doesn’t dare to speak any louder, afraid that God himself is listening in on the conversation.

“What is it, my son?”

Raphael takes a deep breath, plays with the rosary in his hands. It’s the first time he’s going to admit this out loud and he almost chickens out. If he hears the words leave his lips, it’s going to be too real to pretend it’s not there. There won’t be any going back after this.

“My son?” The priest insists when it’s been quiet too long.

“I -” Raphael starts, and then almost chokes on the words. He tries again, slower this time. “I feel attracted to someone. I think – I think I may even be in love.”

“There is no sin in loving,” the priest says, a smile sounding through his voice.

“There is when it’s with another man.”

The priest is quiet for a second, long enough for Raphael to become sick to his stomach. The words are still ringing in his head. He imagines God disapprovingly shaking his head at him.

“I see,” he finally says. His voice does little to soothe Raphael’s nerves.

“I am sorry for this and all the sins of my past life,” he whispers, bowing his head in shame as if the priest can see him.

“My son, it is normal for men to have admiration for other men. What you feel is not love, my child. It is respect. You don’t want to be with this man you’re speaking of. You want to be like him. God will not lead you astray. Give thanks to the Lord for he is good.”

Raphael imagines Simon’s lanky figure, the way his glasses tend to slip from the bridge of his nose. He highly doubts that he wants to be like him, but there’s no point in arguing.

“For His mercy endures forever. Thank you, father.”

 

 

The streets are dark when Raphael finally leaves church. He can’t help but feel uneasy now, unsafe. He hasn’t felt like this since the day his boy met his end on the streets and he himself was barely able to walk away. Since then, he’d made sure there was no reason for him to feel unsafe at night. Of course he couldn’t change the color of his skin or the sound of his accent and you never were fully safe when you were a brown boy in a white city. But he made sure he didn’t give people a reason to want to hurt him.

Now though, now that he’s actually said the words out loud to someone, he thinks the entire world must know. And the entire world must be after him.

So he makes his way home faster than he normally would, darting from street to street and looking out for possible threats.

When he finally turns the key to his apartment, he lets out a sigh of relief.

He almost chokes on it when he opens the door and sees Simon sitting on the couch.

“There you are!” His mother greets him, dropping what she was doing to rush over to him. She grabs his face and presses a kiss to both of his cheeks, but Raphael just keeps looking at Simon over her shoulder.

He looks out of place here, almost like he does everywhere in Raphael’s life. He looks out of place at the garage, at the small grocery store he works at and now here, holding a glass of water in shaking hands. Like a bright spot in grim surroundings. Like a flower in dead soil.

“What are you doing here?” Raphael asks, ignoring the questions his mother is firing at him.

“Raphael,” his mother gasps at his bluntness. Then she gestures over to where Simon is sitting.

“Simon here came by to check on you. He hasn’t heard from you in days and he was getting worried!”

Simon nods in agreement, moves to stand and approach him. But Raphael frees himself from his mother’s grasp and steps aside.

“You should go,” he says coldly.

“Raph, I…” Simon starts. Raphael holds up a hand to stop him.

“Please. Go.”

“Raphael, I came here to talk to you. Please.”

Raphael sighs deeply, taking in Simon’s appearance. The other boy is nervously chewing his lip as he waits for Raphael to reply, bouncing from leg to leg.

When it takes him too long, his mother slaps him across the head and pushes the both of them outside.

“Of course he’ll talk,” she says firmly right before closing the door right in their faces.

“Well, your mother’s nice,” Simon says sheepishly once they’re both standing in the hallway.

Raphael just glares at him.

“Why are you here, Simon?”

“Well, since I didn’t know what floor or apartment you lived in, I just spent the past day going from door to door to ask if you lived there. You’d think the people in here would know each other, but I guess you’ve never been the social type. Anyway, so I knocked on your door about two hours ago and your mom opened it. When I asked for you, she practically dragged me inside. She told me you never bring friends over. Is that true?”

“I don’t really have many friends to bring over, do I?” Raphael snarls, already irritated with this conversation. To be honest, Simon had been the only person he’d consider a friend in years.

“Okay, yeah. That’s kinda why I’m here. Well, actually I came to apologize again and I was also planning on begging you to drop by the diner again and drink a strawberry milkshake just like you used to before I screwed up, but then I had an idea.”

“What kind of idea?” Raphael asks suspiciously. He’s known Simon long enough now to know his ideas are usually illegal or stupid. Or both.

“Just come with me.”

Raphael narrows his eyes at him and moves to walk back into his apartment. Simon puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him, and Raphael tries to pretend his skin doesn’t tingle where he’s touching him.

“Raph, _please_. I swear it’s gonna be fun and I won’t kiss you again. We’re just going to have a good time together, as friends.”

Raphael doesn’t know how to feel about any of that. He doesn’t know how to feel about Simon promising he won’t kiss him again or how to feel about him calling them just friends.

Simon’s hand is still on his shoulder, softly squeezing it. Raphael hates how he can feel himself relax under his touch.

“Fine. Let me just tell my mom,” he finally complies. He peeks his head around the door and tells his mother he and Simon are going out. She’s way too cheerful as she tells him they can stay out as long as they need to. Raphael guesses she’s just happy he got out of his room. If only she knew what his relationship with Simon was.

Simon motions for Raphael to get into his car once they’re outside. Raphael is just relieved they won’t have to walk and happily settles in the passenger seat.

“Listen,” Simon says once he’s taken off, “I really am sorry. I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or get you in trouble. As you said: I wasn’t thinking. I was stupid, but please don’t be mad at me.”

Raphael sighs.

“I’m not mad,” he says quietly.

“Really?”

“Yeah, not anymore. Let’s – let’s just forget about it, okay?”

“All of it?” Simon asks.

Raphael thinks about the night on the beach, about how close Simon had stood against him, the heat of his body radiating through his clothes. His lips had been impossibly soft and sweet, still tasting like the popcorn he’d eaten earlier that night. Raphael’s name had sounded like a prayer on his lips.

“All of it,” he nods.

 

“Simon, what are we doing here?” Raphael asks twenty minutes later. They’re parked in front of the roller derby and normally Raphael would’ve enjoyed a nice surprise like this, but it seems to be closed for the night. “Are you gonna drag me inside and kill me with a rollerblade?”

Simon nudges him in the ribs before getting out.

“Haha,” he huffs over the roof of the car. Then he closes his door and walks around the vehicle, reaching for Raphael’s hand but dropping his arm halfway.

“Sorry. Just friends,” he mumbles. Raphael thinks it’s more to remind himself than anything else.

“Come on,” he says with a jerk of his head. He leads the way to the back of the building and sneaks inside through the backdoor.

“I’m pretty sure this is illegal,” Raphael complains. Which honestly shouldn’t even surprise him anymore.

“I’m pretty sure it isn’t,” Simon disagrees.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure we’re breaking and entering.”

Simon turns around to roll his eyes at him and then pushes open another door leading to the roller derby track. There are six people standing on it, talking to each other.

“Not when one of us has the key,” Simon winks, walking over to the people on the track. Raphael recognizes Clary and Izzy and also a blond guy he’s seen hanging around the diner a few times. He believes his name is Jace.

“Raph, these are my friends. Of course you know Clary and Izzy. That tall giant over there is Alec, Izzy’s older brother. He works here and thanks to him we can hang out here without it necessarily being illegal. That pretty boy next to him is his boyfriend, Magnus.”

Simon uses the word ‘boyfriend’ so freely, Raphael feels like someone closed a fist around his throat. Nobody ever refers to someone like that, not even when it’s true. He’s sure an angry mob is gonna march through the doors any second now to kill them on the spot.

When that doesn’t happen, he lifts a hand to weakly wave hello.

“The blond guy is Jace and that’s his girlfriend Lydia. We refer to them as the Straight Allies.”

“Straight Allies?” Raphael repeats confused. “Does that mean…” He glances at the people in front of him, “you’re all…”

“Queer?” Simon grins. As if that isn’t a dirty word used to hurt people, to embarrass them. “Yeah, you could say that. This is our Gay Get Together, where we skate and talk about how gay we are.”

When Raphael just gapes at him, Simon breaks into a laugh.

“Raphael, relax! I’m just teasing you. I mean, yeah, most of us here are not straight. But we’re still just teenagers and we’re just looking for some fun. We come here every week to skate and talk without curious ears listening in.”

“That’s not gonna be a problem, right?” Clary asked, eyebrows raised.

“What?” Raphael replies smartly.

“You know. Us. You’re not gonna tell anyone, are you?”

“Clary!” Simon gasps. “Raphael would never sell us out like that, come on. Have some faith in the people I bring in here.”

“Well, he actually is the first person you’ve brought here,” Alec points out. “So we’re allowed to see if he’s a good guy.”

Raphael looks at Simon in disbelief, who just turns a pretty shade of red.

“What? They were pushing me to bring a date, so here we are.”

“Date? What happened to just friends?” Raphael wonders.

Simon opens and closes his mouth, then turns around on his heels and promptly heads to the racks of skates.

“Are we gonna skate or talk all night?” He asks.

They all choose the former.

 

Raphael has never skated in his entire life. This ends up being quite a big problem, considering the fact he also doesn’t have the best balance in the world. Simon has to hold his hand anyway, dragging him over the track as the others skate freely and laugh loudly.

Simon is currently skating backwards, holding both Raphael’s hands and dragging him forward.

“You’re doing so well,” he encourages him. Raphael isn’t so sure about it, but he just tries to focus on not falling on his face.

Izzy and Clary skate past them, holding hands and giggling. Raphael is jealous about how easy they make it look.

“This is ridiculous,” he complains. “I’m just making a fool out of myself.”

Simon rolls his eyes at him.

“Come on, Raph. Look around you. Does it really look like anyone is paying attention to your clumsy ass?”

Raphael slowly lifts his head, squeezing Simon’s hands even harder to make sure he doesn’t let go. When he looks around, he sees Jace and Lydia skating a bit further down the track and Magnus and Alec standing on the side, kissing.

Raphael loses his balance and almost trips, but Simon manages to catch him just in time.

“Woah, careful,” he says.

“Sorry,” Raphael mutters, looking at the couple through his eyelashes. It’s the first time in his life he’s ever seen two boys kiss and it’s doing weird things to his heart. He suddenly feels… jealous. They don’t seem to have a problem with their sexuality. In fact, none of them seem to. So why is it so hard for him, then? Will they really all go to hell for something as innocent as this, just enjoying each other? And, if so, would hell really be that bad if they could all be there together?

“Don’t get distracted now,” Simon snaps him out of his thoughts. “We almost did one round. You’re gonna skate the next one by yourself.”

“Wh – no, Simon, that’s a bad idea! I’m not ready!”

“Tough luck, buddy. Ready or not, you’re gonna do it anyway.”

And, as promised, he holds his hands till they pass Alec and Magnus and then lets go, despite Raphael’s complaining.

Simon still skates right next to him, though, arms extended to catch him if he falls. It reassures him enough to keep on skating, though it’s slower than when Simon was still helping him.

When they pass Alec and Magnus again (who, Raphael suspects, have moved closer to him when Simon wasn’t watching so he didn’t have to skate a full round by himself) Raphael quickly makes his way to the side to get to safety.

The others start cheering, chanting his name as if he’d just won a marathon. Raphael can feel his cheeks flush because of all the attention he’s getting and finds himself looking for Simon to calm his nerves.

The other boy is by his side in the blink of an eye, grinning proudly.

“Told you you could do it!” He cheers.

Raphael smiles back at him, feeling his stomach contract with familiar butterflies. He thinks about Alec and Magnus and who’s here and who isn’t. He thinks about just skating even if he isn’t ready, letting go even when he wants to hold on. And he looks at Simon, notices his bright eyes and beautiful lips.

“Simon,” he says, his voice not loud enough to carry over the cheers of the others.

“Yeah?”

“You know how you promised not to kiss me again?”

“Uhu.”

“I want you to break that promise.”

“Now?”

Raphael licks his lips, darts his eyes to Simon’s mouth and nods.

When they kiss, the cheers turn impossibly loud.

And this time, Raphael doesn’t think about the boy who didn’t get up. Instead, he thinks about letting go and being happy and skating and _Simon_.

Just Simon.

 

“I’m confused,” Simon says once he’s parked in front of Raphael’s apartment again later that night.

“That makes two of us,” Raphael mutters. He can still feel the kiss lingering on his lips, Simon’s hands pressed to his neck.

“Seriously, Raphael. You need to explain something to me.”

Simon’s voice sounds so serious, unlike Raphael has ever heard it before. It makes him turn his head to look at him.

“Okay,” he says when he sees the expression on Simon’s face.

Simon takes a deep breath and starts: “When I came by, your mother told me you went to church. I figured you went to confession, given the time and day. I also figured you went to confession because of _me_.”

Raphael waits for him to continue. When that doesn’t happen, he simply says: “Correct.”

“Right. This is where it gets confusing for me. If you went to confess your sins and your priest lifted them off of you – meaning you’re once again a good Catholic boy who’ll probably end up in heaven – why’d you ask me to kiss you again? Why did you sin again?”

Simon glances at him from underneath his eyelashes, too shy to actually make eye contact. He fidgets with the hem of his shirt as he waits for Raphael’s reply.

Raphael runs his fingers through his hair and bows his head.

“I – I don’t know,” he says honestly. “It wasn’t my intention to ever see you again. I figured I would beg for forgiveness and move on. I – I wanted to forget it. You. But then you showed up at my door and you brought me to a place where people can just be themselves and they all looked… happy. It made me doubt everything again. I want to be happy like that too. And you – you make me happy, Simon. No matter how I was raised or what I’ve been through. You just – you just make me happy.”

A deafening silence settles between them and Raphael feels a horrible sense of panic creep up on him. What if Simon doesn’t feel the same way? What if Raphael had just been his toy, what if he was just messing with him?

But then a nervous giggle escapes Simon’s mouth.

“Wow. I _really_ want to kiss you right now,” he breathes.

Raphael hesitates, then reaches for Simon’s hand to pull it on his lap.

“Not here,” he says quietly. He doesn’t know who might be watching them from the shadows and he really doesn’t want to take the risk.

“When?” Simon asks.

“Do you think Alec will lend you his key to the roller derby?”

Simon grins.

“I’ll pick you up at 11pm tomorrow night.”

“Good,” Raphael smiles.

“Good,” Simon repeats.

After one more squeeze, Raphael lets go off his hand. They say goodbye and Simon waits for Raphael to enter the building before driving off.

His mother wants to know everything about his night, happy that Raphael seems to have recovered from his ‘flu’.

Raphael just tells her they’ll talk later and heads for his room.

He knows there’s gonna be a moment where he has to sit her down and tell her everything, and it’s not gonna be pretty.

But for now he just aches for Simon to be right there next to him, resting his head on his chest and talking him to sleep.

And for the first time in ages, Raphael doesn’t feel like a sinner. He allows himself to think of himself as a saint worshipping religion, a peasant worshipping an angel. Because that’s what Simon is. No matter what anyone will ever tell him, Raphael will never see Simon as anything other than divine.

 

**August 11 th **

Raphael quits his job at the grocery store.

He knows he should feel guilty about it. The extra income helped his family a lot and he hates to be so selfish, but his job there comprised the amount of time he got to see Simon.

He promises himself he’ll get a second job (or maybe even a third) when summer is over and Simon is gone. But till then, he just wants to be with him.

At least at the garage, Simon can come and sit with him without having his boss yell at him to ‘take a walk’ because he’s distracting Raphael. Nobody cares about who Raphael does or doesn’t bring there, as long as he does his job. So Simon finds himself often sitting on one of the crafting tables, playing with tools he doesn’t even know the name of while Raphael works.

“You know how sexy you look like that?” Simon casually asks one night. The garage is empty besides the two of them, so Raphael isn’t shy to cock a bow and grin smugly.

“Yeah,” he grins. Simon glares at him and throws a rag into his direction. Raphael uses it to wipe the grease off his hands.

“You’re supposed to say no, you ass. And then I’d point out how good you look in that dirty white shirt and how tanned your biceps are. And _then_ you’d get all confident and smug and quirk an eyebrow at me before slowly taking off your shirt and throwing it in my face.”

“If you want me to take off my shirt, you could just ask,” Raphael notes, stalking over to Simon. Simon eyes him up and down, lips parted.

“Where’s the fun in that?” He complains, but his voice doesn’t sound half as annoyed as he wants it to be.

“Okay, I guess I’ll just keep it on, then. Though it is getting _really_ hot in here.” Raphael daringly lifts his shirt as if to cool himself down with it, exposing part of his stomach. Simon gulps when he notices.

“I hate you,” he squeaks. Raphael laughs in return.

“No, you don’t,” he grins as he comes even closer, his body pressed against Simon’s knees now. The other boy opens his legs for him to slip between them.

“You’re right, I don’t. You know what I do hate, though?”

“And what would that be?”

Simon lets his hands creep over Raphael’s back, under his shirt. Raphael shivers when his hands come in contact with his bare skin.

“Your shirt. It has to come off. Now,” Simon demands. He doesn’t wait for Raphael to reply, is already pulling the thing over his head. Raphael helps him get it off and throws it in a corner of the garage.

He’s standing in front of him shirtless now, his chest already rising and falling unevenly in anticipation. Simon groans as he takes him in and then presses his lips to Raphael’s shoulder.

Raphael gasps and lifts his hand to weave his fingers through Simon’s thick hair. He presses down on it, pushing his mouth firmer against his skin.

Simon leaves a path of biting kisses up his shoulder, neck and jaw until he settles against his lips. Raphael grunts when Simon deepens the kiss, licking into his mouth in a way Raphael would’ve found obscene if it hadn’t been Simon doing it. His hands are resting on Raphael’s sides, pressing his nails in the soft flesh there.

Simon parts with his lips again to kiss down his throat instead. Raphael tilts his head for him, grabs into his hair harder. He feels like he’s been set on fire and only Simon’s mouth can put it out. He wants him all over, everywhere he can reach.

When Simon starts kissing down his chest and fumbles with his belt, Raphael lets his chin rest on Simon’s head and whispers his name.

When Simon continues to loosen his belt, Raphael gently takes his wrists in his hands and says his name again.

Simon stops kissing him to gaze up at him. His eyes are lidded and filled with desire. It makes a shiver run down Raphael’s spine.

“Right,” Simon says breathlessly, sitting back on the table to create some distance between them. “No sex before marriage.”

Raphael shakes his head with a smile, moves to brush his nose against Simon’s.

“According to my religion, I shouldn’t be having sexual or romantic relationships with men. Yet here I am. Do you really think I still care about abstinence?”

“Then why -”

“Simon, I just don’t want our first time to be in a filthy garage on a dirty table.”

“Oh,” Simon giggles. “Sorry, I didn’t even think about that.”

“That’s because you were thinking with something else,” Raphael teases, glancing down at Simon’s crotch. The other boy pinches his nipple.

“Shut up,” he grumbles.

Raphael snickers and presses a kiss to Simon’s forehead. Then he steps out of the grip of his legs and pats his knee.

“Another time,” he promises.

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Simon warns.

“Counting on it.”

 

**August 13 th **

Simon’s mother is out of town to visit her sister and it’s the best news Raphael has received all summer.

He doesn’t feel as uneasy visiting Simon at home anymore, not now his mother isn’t there. It also doesn’t bother him that he’s living in a big house anymore. At least here they have some privacy.

They moved Simon’s record player downstairs and are listening to some vinyl, Simon occasionally humming along while Raphael just looks at him and enjoys the moment. They’re sitting on the couch, Raphael’s legs flung over Simon’s lap. Simon taps the beat of the song on his shins.

“What’s gonna happen when you move away?” Raphael blurts out of the blue. He knows he shouldn’t do it. He should just live in the moment, enjoy the way Simon’s lips part as he sings along. He should not want to ruin today. But he guesses he’s always been a bit self-destructive.

Simon stops singing mid-word to look at him, startled.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says when the silence stretches between them.

“But I do. I worry about it every day.”

“Me too,” Simon confesses. His hands are still on Raphael’s shins now. “But can we just _try_ not to, at least not until I’m leaving? Which is in two weeks, by the way.”

Raphael’s stomach chenches together and for one terrifying moment, he thinks he’s going to throw up. But he just swallows and nods.

“Okay. We should – we should just enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Agreed,” Simon nods. “Now…” He pushes Raphael’s legs off and stands, only to extend his hand to him.

“Dance with me.”

“What?”

“You heard me, mister. Let’s dance. Come on, the curtains are drawn, my mother is out of town, we’re all alone. Nobody is gonna see.”

Raphael stares at Simon’s hand, thinks about it and then reaches out to grab it. Simon pulls him to his feet and drags him to the middle of the living room to wrap his arms around his waist. Raphael brings up his arms to let his hands rest on Simon’s shoulders.

They sway to the music for a while, brushing their noses together and smiling against each other’s mouths. Raphael wishes it could be like this forever.

Slowly but surely, their kissing turns into something more heated. Simon’s hands grab harder in Raphael’s shirt and his lips press firmer against his, occasionally pulling back to pull at his lower lip with his teeth. Raphael can’t stop a moan from escaping him.

His fingers curl around the collar of Simon’s shirt, pull him closer to him. He fumbles with the buttons in an attempt to open them.

*******************************************************************************************************************************************

“Raphael?” Simon asks out of breath, unsure of what path they’re treading here. Raphael just nods against his neck.

Simon knows what he means.

He helps Raphael unbutton his shirt and lets it fall to the floor. Raphael’s clothes are next, easily pulled over his head and tossed to the side. They barely give each other enough space to unbutton their pants; they’re too busy biting bruises in each other’s skin. Simon sinks his teeth in Raphael’s neck and Raphael _whimpers_ , feeling unsteady on his feet. He blindly strips out of his pants and pulls Simon’s down with them.

They step backwards until Raphael’s back hits the wall. He hisses at the contact and knows it’s gonna leave a bruise, but he figures it won’t matter with how hard Simon is sucking at his skin to leave a mark. He’s not gonna come out of this unbruised.

Simon’s hands are everywhere at once; tugging at his hair, digging into his sides, dragging over his chest. Raphael is overwhelmed by the intensity of it all and can barely keep himself upright against the wall, let alone do something himself. His mind is racing a million miles a second, trying to think ahead of the situation. How does this even work, what does he do, what does Simon like?

He realizes he’ll never find out if he doesn’t ask, so he collects all his courage and his breath to ask: “What do you want me to do?”

Simon looks up from where he was sucking a mark into his neck, his lips already swollen. He looks so incredibly attractive like that, with lidded eyes and a lazy smile. Raphael feels heat pool in his stomach.

“Come upstairs with me,” Simon says hoarsely. Raphael nods and lets him take his hand to guide him upstairs, to his room.

Simon has a small bed and urges Raphael to lie down in it before climbing in himself and settling between his legs. Their chests are pressed together now and Raphael can feel a heart hammering and he doesn’t know if it’s his or Simon’s or both.

Simon starts peppering him with kisses again, open-mouthed and wet, all over his body. He travels down, flicks his tongue over an erect nipple. Raphael groans, arches his back for him.

Simon presses his grin in Raphael’s skin and reaches up to roll his other nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“ _God,_ Simon,” Raphael whimpers. He normally isn’t one to take the lord’s name in vain, but he can’t help himself. It just feels so good, so foreign.

The other boy kisses down his torso, over his stomach and down his navel. He nuzzles his nose in the dark hairs leading down Raphael’s boxers, presses a hot kiss right at his waistband.

Raphael is already hard in his pants. Normally, he’d be embarrassed about it. He tries to ignore that part of him as much as he can, tries to pretend he never feels sexual desire. But Simon is so close and so warm on top of him and everything is just _too much_.

He lifts his hips in an attempt to tell Simon what he wants. Simon hums approvingly and hooks his fingers around the waistband of his boxers, waits for Raphael to lift his hips again and then drags them down.

It’s the first time Raphael is naked in front of another boy that isn’t one of his brothers (and even that was _years_ ago) and he can’t help but feel shy. He can feel a blush creep up his entire body, which makes Simon chuckle.

“See, told you you blush a lot.”

Raphael covers his face with his hands in an attempt to hide.

“Shut up,” he begs.

Simon pulls himself at his level and gently pulls his hands away.

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed. You’re beautiful, Raphael.”

“Beautiful?” He echoes.

“Yeah, can I call you that? Because you are.”

Raphael smiles and stretches his neck to kiss the corner of Simon’s mouth. Simon ducks down to kiss him again and then looks down at his exposed body.

“I – I, uh, have never done this before,” he confesses, “I don’t know what to do, so – just tell me what you need. I’ll take care of you.”

His words make Raphael shudder and he wants to reply, but his throat is screwed shut. So instead he just nods and starts gently pushing him down again until his nose is nuzzling his thigh.

“What do you want? My hands, my mouth?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Raphael breathes, unable to say more. He closes his eyes in anticipation, almost bites through his lip when Simon hesitantly wraps a hand around the base of his cock.

“Tell me if I’m doing it wrong,” he instructs. Raphael is sure there isn’t a thing in the world that Simon could possibly do wrong now, but he hums nevertheless.

Simon must touch himself a lot more than Raphael does, because his hand feels way more experienced around him than it should. He grips and slides confidently, squeezes just right when he reaches the tip. Raphael lifts his hips to thrust into his fist when Simon stills. Simon presses his hips firmly into the mattress in response, gives another jerk.

Raphael thinks it won’t get any better than this, but then he feels wetness around the tip of his cock and realizes with a jolt that Simon is wrapping his mouth around him. He can’t take him in completely, too inexperienced to know how to, but the world _explodes_ behind Raphael’s eyelids. This sensation is unlike anything he’s ever felt before. It makes his legs tremble and toes curl and _fuck_. If Simon continues like this, he won’t last very long.

And then he drags his tongue across his tip and Raphael cries out, his hips jerking up involuntarily in an attempt to warn Simon. His breathing is coming in shocks now, ragging through his throat.

“Simon,” he whimpers. Simon must hear the warning in his name, because he pulls back and gets to his knees, looking up at Raphael with red cheeks and a shy smile.

“Was that any good?” He asks and _God,_ what did Raphael ever do to deserve him.

Raphael breathes a laugh.

“Simon, that was – that was amazing.”

“Good. I want to try something else now, if that’s okay. Magnus told me about it.”

Raphael is curious. He wonders if it’ll be as good as what he just experienced.

“Okay, go ahead,” he finally manages to say, his voice shaking. Simon nods and lifts his hand to his mouth, sucking in a finger.

Raphael watches in amazement, notices how Simon hollows his cheeks and moves his finger in and out. It’s obscene and dirty and _totally_ turning him on. He has to resist the urge to wrap a hand around himself and take care of himself as he watches Simon.

Simon eventually pulls out his finger with a wet _plop_ and instructs Raphael to pull up his legs. Though he doesn’t know what he’s planning to do, he trusts Simon. So he obeys.

“You need to relax,” Simon says, holding onto Raphael’s leg to keep it up.

Raphael takes a deep breath and then exhales, imagining the stress and worry leaving his body with it. He sinks back into the mattress, closes his eyes. Then he gives a short nod to let Simon know he’s ready for whatever is coming next.

When he feels Simon circling his hole, his first instinct is to push him off. This isn’t natural, this shouldn’t be a thing. But he also trusts him and knows he’d never do something to hurt or embarrass him, so he bites his lip and waits it out. Simon whispers soothing words as he slowly presses in, telling Raphael how good he is to him and how beautiful he looks like this.

Simon pushes in agonizingly slow and it’s honestly not the best feeling in the world, but every time Raphael tenses up, Simon is there to talk him back to relaxation. He finds it to be easier when he doesn’t fight it and tries to relax all his muscles for him.

When Simon can’t go any further, Raphael feels full. He concentrates on the feeling and is grateful to Simon for letting him get used to it. A couple minutes pass in silence, the only sound in the room the sound of Simon nibbling at his jaw to calm him down.

Raphael gets used to the sensation after a while, actually starts liking it. He tries to move against Simon’s finger, presses himself up to him. When Simon realizes what he’s doing, he pulls out a bit and presses back in again. Raphael hisses.

“Am I hurting you?”

Raphael wants to say yes, because he is. But it’s not a bad kind of pain. In fact, he wants to feel more of it. So he shakes his head and whispers: “Move.”

Simon obeys, pulling out his finger halfway and pushing in again. When Raphael doesn’t tell him to stop, he does it again, this time pulling out further before thrusting in again.

He repeats the movement a few times and it doesn’t even feel too bad, but then he curls his finger and hits a spot Raphael didn’t even know existed and he gasps, tears suddenly pooling in the corners of his eyes.

Simon must think he did something wrong, because he’s quick to pull out completely and apologize. Raphael whimpers at the loss, suddenly feeling impossibly empty.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Simon says. “Magnus said Alec likes it when he does that but I must’ve done something wrong, I didn’t mean to hurt you, Raph. I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Raphael reassures him. His voice is hoarse.

“I didn’t?”

“No, Simon. I _liked_ it. Please do it again.”

“O – okay,” Simon stutters. His finger isn’t wet anymore and they both agree putting it back in his mouth would be gross, so he wets his middle finger instead. Raphael gets a bit anxious right before he enters him again because this finger is bigger and longer, but when Simon presses in, it seems to go smoother than the first time.

It doesn’t take him as long to push in completely and Raphael gets used to the feeling faster. Simon curls his finger like he did before and hits that spot _again_ , stroking it every time he pulls back and presses back in. Raphael starts whimpering again, Simon’s name strung together with moans and God and swearwords. He moves against the finger inside of him to get more friction, grabs at himself in an attempt to get off on the same rhythm as Simon fucks him.

Simon swats his hand away and takes his place instead, his hand warmer and bigger around him. He jerks him off with care, not getting sloppy despite the extra job he has now.

And when he dips down to take him into his hot mouth again, Raphael loses it.

“Ah – fuck, oh, oh – _Simon_ ,” he moans, not knowing how to move, whether he wants to thrust into his mouth or push down onto his finger. Everything is so much, so bright. His legs start trembling again.

He vaguely registers Simon is rocking his hips into the mattress and briefly wonders if he’s getting himself off, but then he remembers that’s impossible with his one hand tugged under his ass and the other one wrapped around the base of his cock. Raphael feels bad, knowing that Simon is doing everything to please him while he probably is in desperate need of release himself.

He’s about to offer to get him off next when Simon pulls out and sits back, earning another whimper from Raphael.

Simon gives himself a second to palm himself through is boxers. Raphael sees how hard he is and suddenly feels the desire to have him inside of him, hot and slick. But he doesn’t think he could handle that, not today.

He switches hands to pleasure Raphael, slicking up two fingers from the hand that had been gripping at his erection seconds before and wrapping the hand that had just been inside him around the base of his cock. Raphael should be worried about the fact that he’s sucking _two_ fingers into his mouth, but he finds himself longing to be extra full.

It hurts again when Simon presses in his fingers, but Raphael knows what to do now. He relaxes his muscles, allows Simon to press in completely. Having two fingers inside of him feels like he’s gonna burst, but he rolls his hips down on them anyway.

Simon settles between his pulled up legs again, his mouth wrapped around the slick tip of his cock and two fingers curling inside of him. He fucks him like that, dragging his fingers over that spot and hollowing his cheeks as he sucks him off.

The world starts to blur around Raphael. All the noise drains until all he can hear is his own rapid breathing, all his sensations disappear until it’s just Simon’s mouth and hands. And he keeps stroking him _there_ , painfully slow and then too fast. He can feel his pleasure rising and taps Simon on the shoulder to warn him.

The other boy lets his cock fall out of his mouth after giving it one last kiss on its head. He continues to jerk him off at the same rhythm of his fingers fucking inside of him and Raphael is a complete mess, his legs trembling as the pleasure becomes almost unbearable.

“Simon, I’m gonna – ah, ah, _shit_ , Simon…” He whimpers, and then he’s coming, spilling over his chest and on Simon’s hand.

Simon’s lips are on his before he can catch his breath, hungrily kissing and biting until Raphael lets his head fall back on the pillow.

“Do you – need a hand?” Raphael asks sheepishly. He feels embarrassed again.

He can literally _feel_ Simon blush against his neck.

“I – uh. Came in my boxers,” he admits.

“From touching yourself half a second?”

“From touching _you_.”

“Oh,” Raphael says. Getting him off had been enough for Simon to come undone himself, which is, well, kinda flattering.

It’s kind of funny, too, to be honest. Next thing Raphael knows, he’s giggling. It’s his way to release all the tension and embarrassment and arousal that had been building up inside of him.

Simon pinches him in the side.

“Don’t laugh at me!” He complains, but his voice sounds light and close to laughing.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I promise I’ll take care of you next time.”

“You better, or I’m breaking up with your ass.”

“Stop threatening me.”

Simon lifts his head from his chest to kiss him on the nose.

“Just kidding.” Then he pushes himself up.

“Now, come on. We better clean ourselves up.”

Raphael grunts and pulls him back down on top of him.

“Five more minutes,” he begs.

“Okay, you big baby. Five more minutes.”

They end up falling asleep like that.

Simon pretends to be angry at Raphael when they wake up and are basically sticking together, but his anger is quickly kissed away and replaced by arousal once Raphael tests Simon’s finger thing out on him.

 **********************************************************************************************************************************

**August 16 th**

Raphael never was much of a fighter, despite the ‘dangerous immigrant’ image people like to paint him as. He grew up amongst too much fighting and hatred and swore he would refrain from that.

But Simon makes him break that promise to himself.

They’re just walking on the streets, enjoying the sun and some ice cream. They’re not holding hands or looking at each other like they do behind closed doors or touching intimately. They’re just casually nudging each other in the ribs from time to time as they tease each other. Nothing provocative, nothing wrong.

And yet, they draw the attention of someone who thinks he’s entitled to have an opinion on them.

“Fags!” Someone spits from across the street. Raphael’s laugh freezes on his lips as he snaps his head to the person calling out to them.

There’s a blond man standing on the curb, looking at them with an arrogant sneer on his face. Raphael clenches his hands into fists and holds them stiffly by his sides.

“We’re just walking, Hodge. Leave us alone,” Simon says. He sounds tired, like he’s been through this before.

“I’m walking too. And you’re _disturbing_ me.”

“By doing _what_? Breathing?” Simon asks, taking a step towards the man. Raphael reaches out for him and wants to pull him back, wants to keep walking. Because he sees the way Hodge looks at them, with the expression of someone who thinks people like them do not deserve to live. He’s seen it in the eyes of the boys who beat him up, in the eyes of politicians on TV. He’s even seen it in the mirror, staring back at him.

“Actually, yes,” Hodge says slowly as he crosses the street. “You two queers should stay the fuck away from here. Nobody wants you around. Nobody wants to see the _disgusting things_ you do to each other.”

Simon raises an eyebrow.

“You thinking about the things we do to each other? That’s kind of suspicious, my friend.”

Hodge gives Simon a shove.

“Shut your fag hole, faggot!”

“Don’t touch him!” Raphael growls, pulling Hodge’s hands off Simon’s shirt and pushing him back. Hodge glares at him now.

“Get your hands off me, filthy immigrant. You should be grateful I’m not kicking your ass back to Mexico myself.”

“I’d like to see you try, breeder.”

Raphael didn’t even know he knew that word. Must’ve picked it up at one of the Gay Get Togethers, as Simon still teasingly calls them.

Hodge pulls back his lips in a snarl.

“What did you just call me?”

“You heard me.”

“You fucking ungrateful piece of brown shit. I’ll fucking kill you. I’ll kill all of you nasty cock sucking bastards.”

Simon seems to be realizing this isn’t a situation he can bullshit himself out of. He curls his hand around Raphael’s bicep to pull him away from the other man, who is standing way too close now. Raphael can smell his bad breath when he exhales.

“Come on, Raph. Let’s go,” he says calmly, but the grip on Raphael’s arm is firm and demanding. Raphael slowly backs away from Hodge, glaring at him until he turns around to walk away with Simon.

He should’ve known better. If his father ever taught him one thing in the time he was around, it was to never turn your back to an already angry man.

“You’re dead meat, fairy,” he says calmly, and then Simon is pulled away from Raphael’s side by the back of his shirt and Hodge is reeling him in and there’s a _knife_ , reflecting the sunlight and briefly blinding Raphael.

He reacts before he can think. His hands shoot forward, grabbing Hodge by the collar of his shirt. And then he throws him on the ground, jumps on top of him.

Raphael never was much of a fighter. But he does know how to throw some punches.

“I told you not to touch him!” He screams as his fists make contact with Hodge’s ugly face. His vision blurs and shifts until all he can see is blood on the pavement, lifeless eyes in a cold body, mouth opened in a silent scream. His boy, dead on the ground, as he barely got away himself. And he hits Hodge again and again, for his boy and for himself and mostly for Simon, until there’s not just blood in his mind anymore but now also coloring the actual, real streets.

For a few seconds, the only sound that registers with him is the rushing of his own blood in his ears. But then Simon’s voice comes through, faint at first but then louder, desperately calling his name. And then he feels hands tugging at his arms, a chest pressed to his back.

“Raphael, stop! I’m fine, he didn’t hurt me. Please stop, _please!”_ He begs. The words bring Raphael back to reality and he looks down on his hands, covered in warm, sticky blood.

Hodge is still breathing underneath him, which is probably a good thing. Despite how much he _hates_ this guy, he can’t be responsible for his death.

So he lets Simon pull him to his feet and drag him away from the man grunting on the ground until they find an alley Simon pulls him in to.

“Raphael, Raph, look at me,” he says softly, cupping Raphael’s cheeks. Raphael is breathing heavily, suddenly feeling sick as he feels blood drip from his fingers. His vision still feels unfocused and everything is so _loud_ around him. His knees buckle and Simon grabs him right before he falls. He gently lets him slide against the wall until he’s sitting, kneeling in front of him.

“Raphael, I’m okay. You pulled him off before he could do anything, I swear.” Simon pulls up his shirt to show his stomach and chest. “See? Not a scratch. Please calm down. Breathe, okay? Just breathe.”

Slowly but surely, Simon’s voice calms him down enough for him to actually look at him.

Raphael swallows thickly before breathing: “He was gonna – and I couldn’t, I wouldn’t – I can’t let you get hurt, Simon. I can’t.”

“Hey, hey, I get it. but I’m not, I’m fine.” He strokes his cheek with his thumb, brushes away tears Raphael didn’t even know he was spilling.

Raphael puts his hand over Simon’s, pressing it harder against his cheek. Simon just smiles.

“I love you,” Raphael blurts, “I love you so much and the thought of losing you feels like someone is choking me and I’m _scared_ , Simon. I’m so scared.”

Simon’s smile falters.

“You’re not losing me, okay? Look at me.” He hooks a finger behind Raphael’s chin to get him to look at him.

“I promise you you’re not. I’m in love with you. I know we’re probably moving too fast and this is probably just young love, but I’m _so_ in love with everything about you. Please stop crying, Raph. I love you so much,” Simon murmurs, all while wiping Raphael’s tears away. Raphael exhales shakily before nodding, pulling Simon closer.

They kiss on the dirty ground of an alley where anyone could just walk by and see them. It’s desperate and sloppy and the kiss tastes like Raphael’s tears, but it’s also _more_. It’s a promise, comfort, warmth.

Raphael found his home in Simon’s lips, curls up in his smile every night before bed. He traces his body like a map, knowing all its secrets and soft spots. When Simon looks at him, when he takes the time to let his eyes wander over Raphael’s features, Raphael no longer feels exposed or shy. He feels confident and loved and right where he belongs.

That night, as they lie entangled in Simon’s bed, Raphael tells him about his mother, about how she told him he couldn’t love boys but he did anyway. He tells him about his boy, about how he lost him to people who thought they did not deserve to live. About how he started believing that himself. He tells him about the blood, how scared he’d been, how heartbroken. He tells him about the funeral and how Raphael had refused to go back to that school, to that _graveyard_.

He cries again. Simon holds him and rubs his back, reminding him how much he loves him and that he’ll never leave him. Raphael clings onto that, to those words, like his life depends on it.

And when he finally stops crying, his throat raw and his eyes burning, Simon kisses away the tears and pain until he’s warm all over.

 

**August 20 th**

Raphael has tried not to think about it too much, but he really can’t deny it any longer. The date is circled angrily on his calendar, almost mocking him.

August 27th. Exactly one week to go before Simon leaves.

Two weeks ago they had made a promise to see each other every day until the day Simon would leave. A small voice in Raphael’s head told him Simon would eventually grow tired of him, that they would run out of things to say to each other if they saw each other every single day. But Simon never allowed for silence to stretch between them, could always reel Raphael back into a conversation. Raphael looked forward to seeing him every day.

But then he doesn’t show up at the diner they’re supposed to be meeting at. When Raphael asks about him to Clary, she just shrugs and tells him he didn’t come in today and didn’t call in sick.

Raphael is immediately worried, but tells himself to calm down. It’s probably nothing. He doesn’t have to storm to Simon’s house to make sure he isn’t dead and be all dramatic while he probably stayed up all night reading and overslept. He’s probably just fine.

That’s what he keeps repeating to himself on his walk back home, the free ice cream cone Clary gave him in his right hand and his left hand stuffed in his pocket. And then he repeats it while he tries to make himself useful at home considering he doesn’t have to work today, cleaning the dishes and vacuuming the house and entertaining his brothers to both keep himself busy and please his mother when she gets home.

And he keeps repeating it to himself when night starts to fall and he’s still not heard of Simon. Sure, they’d agreed not to call each other at home, but surely Simon would break that rule if there was something wrong?

Raphael is just about to pick up the house phone and dial his number anyway when there’s a soft knock on the door.

To say he recognizes his knock would be a bridge too far, but he does immediately drop the horn to open the door.

His heart drops to his stomach when he sees Simon standing there, eyes red from crying and a bruise on his face, covering half of his cheekbone. There’s a packed suitcase by his feet.

“Simon?” Raphael asks unsurely. Is he leaving already? Is this a goodbye?

But instead of replying, the other boy throws himself in Raphael’s arms and muffles a sob in the crook of his neck.

“Hey, hey. What’s wrong? What happened?” Raphael murmurs as he rubs soothing circles on his back. His brothers are in the living room, are probably watching them right now, but they’re too young to understand what they mean to each other, what lingers in the space between their bodies.

Simon just cries and wraps his arms tighter around Raphael’s torso. Raphael lets him, holds him while he cries just like Simon did nights before. When he finally pulls back and wipes his eyes to the sleeves of his shirt, he looks so young and fragile. It’s easy for Raphael to forget they’re both still so young. He often feels like he’s lived through centuries already.

“My mom – my mom kicked me out,” he hiccups.

“What? Why?” Raphael questions. He takes Simon’s hand to guide him inside and takes his suitcase with him, making his way to his room. He tells his brothers to play nicely as they pass. They just stare at the unfamiliar boy who’s holding Raphael’s hand.

Once in Raphael’s room, having locked the door so they won’t be disturbed, Raphael gently pulls Simon down on his bed with him.

“Tell me what happened,” he insists, putting a reassuring hand on his knee.

Simon takes a deep breath, nods and starts: “I told my mom I don’t want to go to college today. She _freaked out_ , yelling about how I’m supposed to leave in a week and everything is already set up for me to go. And she asked me what I wanted to do with my life if I didn’t go to college, what I could _achieve_. I told her I wanted to do something with my music and she just laughed. Like it was a joke.”

Simon stops talking and bites his lip. He’s nervously fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

“She – she blamed it on you, Raphael. Said you were a bad influence on me. Forbade me to see you again. And I – I…” His jaw opens and closes in an attempt to form the words. Raphael squeezes his knee to comfort him.

“I told her I’m in love with you. I swear I didn’t mean to! It – it just slipped because I was so _angry_ , Raph. She was talking shit about you and I – I just _lost it_. I yelled at her that I’m in love with you and you’re in love with me and…” He hides his face in his hands, shakes his head with a small whimper, “I told her we had _sex_. I’m so sorry, Raphael. I outed you to her and I swear I didn’t mean to. I just – I wanted to hurt her, I guess. Shock her.” Then he barks a humorless laugh. “Guess it worked. And I guess she wanted to hurt me too.”

He turns to face Raphael, points at the bruise on his cheek.

Raphael clenches his jaw in anger.

“Did she do that to you?”

Simon nods. He only briefly darts his eyes at Raphael’s face before turning them to the ground again. He looks… ashamed. As if this is his fault. As if _getting hit_ was his fault.

“That’s not even the worst part. It was so ugly, Raphael. God, it was brutal. At first she didn’t believe me and thought I only said it to rile her up. But – I… I showed her a bruise on my neck you gave me. I went into _detail_ about it. I don’t even know why I did that. It was so stupid of me, I’m so stupid…”

“No, you aren’t,” Raphael says softly. He puts his chin on Simon’s shoulder to give him a kiss on the cheek and lets it rest there as Simon continues.

“When she finally believed me – when she realized – when… I just _saw_ her expression change. And I knew she hated me. She stormed to my room and started throwing random stuff of mine in a suitcase. Wouldn’t even say anything as she passed me and ran downstairs, throwing the suitcase out on the curb. The only thing she said before basically pushing me out was: ‘Don’t bother coming back.’”

He falls silent after that, his shoulder slumping and head hanging. Raphael feels his heart ache for him.

“Simon, I’m so sorry.”

Simon shakes his head.

“It’s – it’s my own fault. I shouldn’t have told her anything. Should’ve just gone to college. But I just _had_ to ruin it. I’m such a fucking idiot, I don’t even know why you put up with me. All I do is fuck stuff up and be a huge fucking queer disappointment.”

“Hey,” Raphael says firmly. “Don’t. You’re not an idiot and you’re not a disappointment. Okay? Look at me.”

Simon reluctantly turns his head to look at Raphael from underneath his eyelashes.

“You’re amazing, Simon. You literally saved my life when you walked into it. I would’ve hated myself for the rest of eternity if it weren’t for you – if you hadn’t taught me how to love. Please don’t talk about yourself like that.”

Simon stares at him for a heartbeat and then wraps his arms around his neck again, pulling him flush against his chest.

“You’re an angel, you know that?” He murmurs against Raphael’s shoulder.

“Well, I _was_ named after one,” Raphael replies with a small smile. Simon huffs a chuckle into his neck. Then he pulls down Raphael with him as he lies down on the mattress, pulling him half on top of him.

“Simon?” Raphael asks, unsure of where this is leading. His brothers are in the other room, so it can’t be leading to a lot.

“Can we just… lie here for a while?” Simon asks. Raphael gazes down at him, then pecks him on the lips and settles against his side.

“Of course we can.”

Simon is on his back and Raphael on his side, which allows him to stare at Simon’s features when the other boy closes his eyes with a sigh. He wants to reach out and trace his cheekbone, his nose, his lips. But he keeps his hands to himself and just lets his eyes travel over his face and body.

They lie like that until Raphael’s room is dark. He would’ve been perfectly content just lying there forever, but there’s a sharp knock on the door and a high voice that startles him.

“ _Mijo_ , open the door!” His mother demands. Her voice sounds panicked. Raphael crawls over Simon, who is now fast asleep, and moves to open the door.

His mother is looking pale, clutching her rosary in her hands. She glances past him at the boy sleeping in his bed.

“Raphael, what were you – what were you doing in there?” She asks hesitantly, as if she doesn’t really want to hear the answer. Raphael can barely hold back the eye roll.

“Simon was upset, mama. I comforted him and now he’s sleeping.”

His mother looks from Simon to Raphael and back.

“Are you sure?” She wonders.

Raphael knows she hasn’t forgotten about all the times he told her he loved a boy. He knows she worries about him, about how the world will react to him. She wants to protect him, make sure nothing or nobody will hurt him. And having a boy in his bedroom… it probably looks suspicious to her. Dangerous.

“I’m sure,” Raphael nods. He steps out of his room and gently closes the door behind him, kissing his mother on the forehead before making his way back to the living room.

 

 

Simon spends the night at Raphael’s apartment that night. Of course Raphael doesn’t want to upset his mother by sharing a bed with him, so he sleeps on the couch.

In the morning, when Simon sits down at the kitchen table looking awkward and embarrassed, they discuss what will happen next. His mother is already at work, so they can talk freely about Simon’s mother and where he would stay now.

“I’d love to let you stay here,” Raphael starts as he cuts the crusts off the sandwich for his brother. “But you understand how my mother would react to that considering my… history. And the place is already packed as it is.”

“I know,” Simon sighs. He pushes his hand through his hair and Raphael tries not to stare at the spot where it sticks up. “I’ll talk to Clary today. She’ll probably be more than happy to offer me a bed. I just… I wished none of this had ever happened.”

Raphael reaches for his hand across the table. If his brothers notice, they don’t say anything about it.

“I know.”

Simon leaves after breakfast and Raphael drives him to the diner, his brothers in tow because he can’t leave them home alone.

 

 

Raphael knows he shouldn’t do it – not after seeing what happened to Simon. But that night, when his brothers are off to bed, he tells his mother he loves a boy.

She doesn’t interrupt him or tell him it’ll pass. She just listens, her eyes fixated on the table in front of her. When he’s done, she pushes herself away from the table to stand, gives him a kiss on the forehead and says: “I knew it was him the moment I saw him.”

“So… you’re not mad at me?” Raphael asks. He suddenly feels incredibly small.

“How can I be mad at you? Surely you know how hard this life is. Surely you wouldn’t live it if it were a choice. I’m sure God will admire your bravery when you face him, _mijo_.”

“Really?”

She offers him a sweet smile as she strokes his cheek.

“Really. I’m glad you told me, Raphael. A boy should not carry such a secret by himself.”

Then she falls silent and examines his face. Eventually she frowns and says: “I just hope he makes you happy, _mijo_. You deserve to be happy.”

“I know. He does.”

“Then I am okay with it,” his mother decides. And it’s as simple as that.

Raphael is happy the conversation went so well, but he can’t help but feel guilty when he remembers Simon’s tear stroked face and trembling hands.

He wishes it’d been so easy for Simon too.

 

**August 27 th**

Not in a million years Raphael would’ve thought someone would start meaning so much to him. When summer had started, he’d thought it would be another hot endless summer break for him to waste away in the dirty garage, working on cars of people who would barely even look at him. He’d never thought he would fall in love again – would probably never allow himself to. Just in case his next love found the same fate as his last one.

But, as with many things in life, you can’t stop love when it decides it wants to happen.

Sometimes Raphael wishes he’d never found that five dollar bill on the curb that day early June. He wishes he’d never gone to that diner, had gone to another one instead.

Meeting Simon had equally been the best and worst thing that ever happened to him.

It had been the best because Simon taught him how to love not only him, but also himself. He showed him that it’s okay for a boy to love another boy, that there is beauty in their sin.

But it had also been the worst. Because Simon stole his heart, and now he is gonna carry it across the country with him and leave Raphael behind with an open chest and scars to match.

The day Simon is supposed to leave for college is gloomy and rainy, which kinda sets the right tone. There hadn’t been a drop of rain the entire summer and now the skies decided it was the perfect time to fall down on them. Raphael would think even they were weeping if he had been slightly more dramatic.

Simon is dragging his suitcase with him, insisting on only using one hand so he can occasionally hold Raphael’s hand for a few steps when they’re sure there’s nobody out to see. Their clothes are soaked and their hair is sticking to their foreheads, but Simon insisted on going outside now instead of waiting for the rain to stop and honestly, who is Raphael to disagree when this is his last day in town?

Raphael thinks he’s bringing him to the train station. He’s even prepared a whole speech, about love and long distance and writing letters and promises. It sounds cheesy even in his own head, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t tell Simon all these things before he leaves him for a year.

But when Raphael wants to cross the street to head towards the station, Simon tugs at his hand and pulls him into the other direction.

“Simon, what –” Raphael starts, but Simon cuts him off by asking him to ‘just trust him’. He’s heard that phrase more times this summer than he’s heard it in his entire life, but he still trusts him every time Simon asks him to. He probably shouldn’t, considering the last time Simon asked him to ‘just trust him’, he ended up almost getting arrested. But, hey. The boy’s got an influence on him.

By the time Raphael is confused and cold and a bit grumpy and he’s just about to ask Simon what his plan is, the other boy stops and turns to grin at Raphael.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Raphael wonders.

“Because,” Simon replies, “I have something to show you.”

And with that, he promptly turns back to face the entrance of an apartment block and opens the door for Raphael in an attempt to be a gentleman. Raphael rolls his eyes at him but is more than happy to get out of the rain, so he’s quick to step inside without much question.

A glance through the lobby teaches Raphael that this is a slightly fancier apartment block than the one he and his family live in, with an actual counter and a wall behind it covered in keys like they’re in a hotel. The man sitting behind the desk looks bored but is wearing a semi-decent uniform, which is more than what Raphael has at home.

Simon is confident when he walks towards the man. Raphael is reluctant to follow, confused as to why they’re here, but then Simon motions over to him after having retrieved a key and starts walking towards the elevator.

Raphael sighs and follows, waiting till the lift starts going up before asking Simon what’s happening.

Simon just smiles and gives Raphael a quick kiss on the lips.

“You’ll see,” he says teasingly.

Raphael groans in annoyance, which just makes Simon grin wider.

When the elevator _tings_ and opens on the fifth floor, Simon leads him down the hallway to a door that reads 506. He makes a whole thing about digging up the key from his pocket (why did he even put it in his pocket in the first place?) and putting it in the keyhole to turn it. He doesn’t break eye contact with Raphael as he swings open the door.

“After you,” he says with a big gesture.

Raphael glares at him but does as told, entering the small apartment in the hopes of finally getting some answers.

It’s a nice apartment. Not very big, with a small lounge to his left and the kitchen to his right. There’s also a door leading to what he guesses is the bedroom.

“Well?” Simon asks. “What do you think?”

Raphael turns to face him, eyebrows raised in question.

“It’s nice,” he says. “But I’m just not sure what exactly we’re doing here.”

A light blush spreads over Simon’s cheeks. He looks down and scratches the back of his neck, motioning to his surroundings.

“Uh, this is, I uh – this is my apartment,” he stutters.

“Wait – _your_ apartment?”

“Yeah,” Simon breathes. “I – uh. Paid rent with part of my college fund. I still have enough left of it to pay for the next few months and Mr. Lightwood agreed to extend my contract at the diner over fall so I won’t be without a job anytime soon.”

Raphael takes a step closer to Simon, reaches out to take his hand.

“But, Si. What about college?”

Simon looks up to meet his gaze.

“I told you I didn’t want to go. I didn’t mean that as in ‘I don’t want to go but I’m going to anyway’, Raph. I meant that I would rather eat sand for the rest of my life than to go. So I took matters into my own hands, looked for an apartment and just – did it.”

He chews his lips nervously as he scans Raphael’s face, something he always does when he needs him to support him. Raphael offers him a genuine smile and moves forward to brush their noses together.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely. It just feels right.”

“Then I think it’s great.”

Simon smiles and then presses their lips together, cupping the back of Raphael’s neck to keep him close.

“Oh,” he mutters against Raphael’s lips, “this apartment has a king size bed, by the way.”

“Does it?” Raphael asks with a smirk. “Better check that out.”

**September 18 st**

It’s really hard to resist the temptation to stay over at Simon’s every night now that he’s living alone and they have all the privacy in the world, but there are a few things holding Raphael back.

First and foremost, his family. He has never gone a day in his life without seeing them, without helping his brothers get dressed or making them dinner or watching TV with his mother when they’ve gone to bed. When he does stay over at Simon’s, he often lies awake at night because it’s just so _quiet_. There is only Simon’s soft snoring next to him. No dimmed voices coming through the thin walls at his place, no heavy breathing from Diego when he has a cold, no mom pacing around the apartment at night when she thinks everyone’s asleep and she can worry in peace. In some ways, the silence here is deafening. Paralyzing.

But though the silence can be numbing at times, not being with Simon is worse. Raphael literally _aches_ for him when they’re not together, counts down every minute to be with him again. Raphael would’ve never thought he could feel so strongly for anyone, and yet here he is. Sometimes he wonders why _Simon_ out of all people. Why does this boy with the glasses and the guitar make him feel like this, like he can’t breathe when he isn’t with him? Objectively speaking, Simon is handsome but not particularly extraordinary. Girls don’t turn their heads to look at him on the streets, he isn’t extremely confident like most guys his age. Yet he’s exactly what Raphael never knew he needed. He guesses angels tend to do that: take the form of whatever it is people need most. Sometimes they come in the form of a serene woman, guiding a lost soul to heaven. Sometimes it’s a young Adonis with both beauty and chaos in his eyes. And sometimes it’s a boy with a toothy grin and a kind heart.

But another reason as to why Raphael can’t spend every day at Simon’s apartment is the fact that people will start to talk. It’s an everlasting looming threat every step they take. They cannot hold hands or kiss or even touch each other in certain ways in public, no matter how much they both want to. The only place they’re safe is at the roller derby with the others, but even then they have to keep both eyes open on the way there and the way back to make sure nobody sees them. Raphael may have learned to accept himself the way he is, but the world is still trying to make him hate himself again.

Of course people will draw conclusions when they see two young men living together, especially because there are already rumors. And no matter how hard Raphael tries, no matter how hard he believes that he processed it and got over it, the blood of his first love still floods his mind every time someone all but glances at him weirdly on the streets.

So he tries to stay away, only stays over every Friday and Saturday night. Those two nights are always the ones he looks forward to most. Simon usually cooks for him and Raphael pretends to like it even though they both know Simon can’t cook to save a life, and after dinner they usually listen to some music and make out on the couch. Those are the best nights.

And it’s not much – they both know it isn’t. It’s also not enough. It will never be enough until they can live together and not fear for their lives, and therefore, it will just _never be enough_.

But for now… For now it’s good.

And they’ll just have to live with that.

 

**October 21 st**

Raphael is learning how to grow up.

He has been working fulltime for two years, has been supporting his family twice as long and has seen more violence than a man his age should see, and yet he never felt like he was truly grown up. His mother still cooked for him, he never spent longer than one night away from home and he hadn’t been planning on moving out anytime soon.

But as time passes, Raphael stays away more often. He still makes sure his mother receives part of his salary and he sleeps at home at least three days a week, but he’s spending more and more time at Simon’s apartment. He doesn’t even realize that he is until Simon buys him a toothbrush to keep there because he often forgets his own.

His mother tells him to be careful every time he leaves. She tells him because she knows and because she worries and it pains Raphael that she does. She shouldn’t have to. But he can’t do anything about it. He can’t even tell her that she shouldn’t worry so much because he _knows_ she should. What Simon and he are doing is dangerous.

Sometimes, when Simon falls asleep on his chest after muttering how much he loves him, Raphael thinks they’re brave. And then other times, when dangerous words are being thrown their way when they walk the streets, Raphael thinks they’re stupid. But most times, when Simon pulls him onto his lap or curls his arms around his torso as he cooks or kisses him, Raphael just thinks they’re _right_. Everything about this feels like it was meant to be.

That’s why it’s so hard to leave after a few days of spending time with him to go back to his other life – because that’s how it feels now. Like he’s living two lives. One with his family, like a good Catholic boy, and one with the boy he loves, like a sinner. And he doesn’t know which life he likes better anymore.

 

  **November 9 th**

What makes it official is when Raphael offers to start paying rent.

Simon almost drops the plate he’d been washing in the sink and looks at him wide-eyed, like Raphael just said the most shocking thing in the world.

“Are you serious?” Simon questions.

“That depends,” Raphael states slowly as he takes the plate from Simon and puts it down before he can actually drop it. “If it’s too soon or too much, then of course I’m not serious.”

“No!” Simon says quickly, drying his hands to reach for Raphael’s. “No, it’s definitely not too soon. But – are you sure? It will make it… real. If you start paying rent that means you’re… moving in, right?”

“Only if you’ll have me.”

Simon smiles brightly and shoots forward to capture Raphael’s lips with his own.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Raphael. Of course I’ll have you! This – ” He takes a deep, excited breath “ – this is so great. This is happening. We’re – we’re moving in together!”

Raphael grins at Simon’s excitement and squeezes his hands.

“I guess we are.”

Simon laughs and kisses him again, curling his arms around Raphael’s neck to pull him closer. Raphael kisses him back for a heartbeat, but then pulls back to look at him.

“People are gonna talk,” Raphael says. Despite the warning in his voice, Simon is still smiling.

“We’re both at college age. We could be roommates – nobody has solid proof that we aren’t.”

“But we’re not actually going to college.”

“No, but people our age tend to leave their home to get into the world and we’re both not the richest people in the world, so a roommate is a good choice whether you go to college or just want to be more independent. It’s gonna be fine, Raphael. I swear.”

Raphael blinks, then nods.

“Okay,” he says softly.

“Okay,” Simon repeats, and then they’re kissing again.

 

**December 14 th**

The first time Raphael met Simon, he didn’t know if he was a religious apparition, an angel or fate.

A lot has happened since then. Raphael tried to fight it, but eventually, Simon stole his heart. He let himself fall in love again and despite how dangerous it is to be them, Raphael feels happy. Of course he’s cautious; of course he doesn’t get too confident or cocky about it. They still have to be careful. But he truly feels _at peace_. He gets to wake up next to Simon every day and kiss him goodnight every night and hold him as they sleep. Moving in with him was a big step, but it definitely was the _right_ one.

Part of his salary still goes to his family. He will never stop supporting them, and the best thing about it is that they’ll never stop supporting him either. They eat dinner at the Santiagos every Saturday night and Raphael’s brothers have grown very fond of Simon, even casually calling him their second big brother. But he lives in their shared apartment now and though he still misses his family, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

The first time Raphael met Simon, he didn’t know if he was a religious apparition, an angel or fate.

Now he knows he was all three.

**Author's Note:**

> [art made for this fic!](http://izzybrightwood.tumblr.com/post/147027067483/my-drawing-for-the-shadowhunters-big-bang)


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